


Three Hallows' Eve

by amidland



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Jily lives, Master of Death (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 57,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27461350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amidland/pseuds/amidland
Summary: The Potters survive the events of Halloween 1981 and Tom Riddle doesn't. As a result, Harry Potter is raised by his parents, but shoulders a burden unlike any other. How drastically is the course of his life changed? Harmony. Jily Lives AU.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 122
Kudos: 288
Collections: HMS Harmony Discord Writing Fest - Jily Meets Harmony Challenge





	1. The End

Godric's Hollow was a small, peaceful village in south-west England, just a few miles away from the Welsh border. Despite the chill of the late evening, a number of parents walked costumed children from door to door, collecting sweets and spreading cheer as was the tradition for _All Hallows' Eve_. Boys dressed up as action stars and comic book heroes ran down the streets play-fighting with those dressed as archetypal villains with their cloaks and their cowls. They fought to save and protect the honour of the various princesses, though admittedly a number of the princesses looked to be getting involved in the make-believe battles themselves.

Lily Potter let out a quiet snort of amusement when her eyes landed on a girl across the street wearing a witch's costume - a long black robe hung from her tiny shoulders and atop her head sat the _pièce de résistance_ , a pointed witch's hat.

A memory of her childhood surfaced from a Halloween party she'd attended when she was eight years old. She'd worn a costume just like the one worn by the girl knocking on her neighbours' front door. As an admittedly precocious child, she'd argued with her mother about how silly the costume was, obviously witches wouldn't _really_ wear robes and pointy hats else they'd be easily found out by everybody else.

Not three years later, her assumption had been corrected in the most mind-boggling of ways.

Behind her, a fifteen month old boy began to grow restless in his cot. The few minutes of inattention on his mother's part had gone on for a few minutes too long. He launched the brown rat plush over the side of his cot in a bid for Mama's attention to be returned to him.

Lily was brought out of her musing by the sound of little Wormtail thudding onto the floor by her feet. She picked it up and looked down at her little boy with a well practised expression of fond exasperation. Meeting innocent looking eyes identical to her own, she shook her head softly. 'Now that's no way to treat Wormtail, is it Harry?' she questioned in an undertone. 'What do we say?'

Harry Potter blinked owlishly up at his mother, but was stopped from responding by what sounded to be a loud roll of thunder coming from every which direction around the house. At the same time the nursery was lit up by a blinding array of lights. Recovering from the change in brightness, Lily's eyes widened as she recognised the signs of the wards around the cottage being overrun. The light and sound stopped almost as suddenly as they'd started, and after only a moment of silence, she heard her husband's voice shouting her from downstairs.

'Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!'

Her heart rate doubled and her mind went into overdrive. Act now, think later, she chastised herself and set about following the plan they had made for this exact scenario. Atop the drawers in Harry's nursery sat a space-expansion charmed bag with everything they could possibly need to survive the night. Almost ripping it open she found what she needed lay right at the top - a portkey in the form of a ruby brooch. Downstairs, a boom sounded as the front door was blasted from its hinges by him.

Lily took a deep breath and blinked her eyes against the tears that had begun to threaten her vision. She grabbed the brooch and flung the bag over her shoulder. Just before she could turn around and pick up Harry, her blood ran cold - there on the drawers, right beside where the bag had been, was James's wand. Obviously he'd left it there before going downstairs to fetch her a cup of tea.

 _Oh Merlin_ , she cried internally. _He_ was here and James was facing him alone and wandless. Blinking furiously now as she couldn't stop the tears from rolling down her face, Lily turned and scooped her frightened son into her arms. The grip she held on the portkey in her palm was so fierce that her knuckles were white. She wanted to wait - oh, how desperately she wanted to wait instead of leaving without James. Despite her tears and her anguish and her heartbreak, however, she held on tight to Harry and whispered hoarsely:

' _Haven._ ' Her heart raced almost audibly in her chest as exactly nothing happened.

She whispered it again, a little more insistently. ' _Haven!_ '

A moment more, and still she stood in the centre of the nursery. Fuck, she swore - the situation had long surpassed any need to mind her language, though never enough for her to speak such language aloud with Harry in earshot. As the tell-tale tug behind the navel that she knew to belong to a portkey failed to make itself known, she realised that their attacker must have placed anti-portkey wards around the house. Now she really was in trouble.

The sound of footsteps making their way slowly up the stairs filled her with a dread like none she'd ever known before. If the owner of those footsteps was James, they'd be sprinting, not walking at a leisurely place. A soft sob escaped Lily's throat as she realised that her husband was definitely dead. She hastily cast a locking charm on the door, though she knew it would do very little, before turning to set Harry back down in his cot, kissing him on the forehead and whispering promises of her love to him while she awaited her fate.

For the second time in only a couple of minutes, the quiet of the night was disturbed by the sound of a door being blown off its hinges. Harry could only watch as his mother turned and stood, sobbing and begging to the figure entering the room.

'Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!'

Unmoved by her pleas, the figure spoke in a high, sibilant voice. 'Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now...'

His mother continued though, 'Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead-'

A hissing sound filled the room as the man raised his wand to his mother.

'Not Harry! Please... have mercy... have mercy...'

' _Avada Kedavra_ ,' the figure hissed as a beam of green erupted from his wand and impacted Lily. Instantly, she fell to the floor, tears still falling from the corners of her empty eyes.

Harry looked up at the figure's face but could make out nothing except for his eyes from under its cowl. A crimson gaze met his eyes and held there for a moment before the wand was raised again, this time at him. Though completely incapable of comprehending the moment, Harry's eyes closed as he took a deep breath in and instinctively called. How or what for, he didn't know - couldn't know - but his magic responded and took over for a brief moment. The room was once more filled with that bright green light, but not before the figure saw the toddler's eyes snap open. Eyes which just a moment before showed the most vibrant peridot irises surrounded by an almost immaculate shining white were now completely black. The green beam struck true, hitting the infant directling in the forehead.

Harry Potter's eyes turned lifeless in a blink and the last of the Potters knew no more.

-oOo-

Something was very wrong, Sirius Black realised once he'd finished searching Peter Pettigrew's house for his missing friend. He racked his brain trying to think of the last time he'd seen or heard from the younger man, settling on the fact that it had been nearly a week now. A bead of sweat ran down Sirius's spine. If Peter had been captured... it didn't bear even thinking about.

In an instant he turned on his heel and apparated to just outside of Godric's Hollow, quickly looking over his shoulder to make sure nobody had borne witness to his sudden appearance. Satisfied that he'd been neither noticed nor followed, he set off on a quick march into the village. The bells of the church, St Jerome's if he remembered correctly, tolled as he paced around the corner of Church Lane onto Ash Close, at the end of which was the Potters' cottage.

He moved to the end of the street at a near run, but stumbled and his progress halted the moment he laid eyes on the small house. The chimney stack was still dutifully expelling smoke from the fire and the kitchen lights were turned on. That was about all that looked regular about the house though. The front door was missing - its frame shattered and splintered, and the wall around it cracked. Worse still, almost half of the thatched roof was completely missing above the nursery.

 _The nursery_. Sirius's blood ran cold. _Harry_.

At the thought of his godson having come to harm, he sprinted up to the house, wand in hand. On reaching the now empty door frame, he found the door itself in pieces lying up to ten feet into the hallway. On the floor of the small living room at the back of the house lay James, perfectly still, his lifeless eyes facing the stairs. Sirius felt his heart fall through his feet and tears began to stream down his face. Numbly, his feet carried him upstairs towards the nursery.

The nursery door had been shattered in much the same way that the front door had been, and the sight caused Sirius's tears to make themselves known as choked sobs. Almost reluctantly, he approached the room. While seeing the state of the door had nearly brought the man to his knees, seeing the scene inside definitely did.

Lily lay on the ground, eyes pointing towards Harry's cot. She looked as graceful as ever, even in death, which had him struggling to see through the blur of his tears. To her right lay one of the many escape bags he knew were dotted around the house, and one of the ruby brooches he knew to be an emergency portkey was sitting loosely in the palm of her hand.

To her left lay a cloaked man, whose wand was in three pieces beside his hand. The hood of his cowl had fallen back to reveal chalk-white skin stretching horribly over a hairless head, a serpentine nose and blood-red eyes. The monster was certainly dead - of that there was no doubt - though that was of little consolation to Sirius who had turned to face the cot.

Harry was still sitting upright, leaning back against the side of the cot which stood flush with the wall. His bright green eyes, so like Lily's own, looked to be staring up at a point above Sirius' head, obviously where Voldemort had been standing before him, but they held none of the laughter, none of the childish joy nor the cheeky glint he'd come to recognise. Tonight they were completely dull and empty. On his forehead above his right eye was a bleeding cut shaped like the Sowilo rune.

Sirius crawled across the floor to the cot and cried out in anguish, reaching in to pick up the toddler. Desperately, he checked for a pulse but, as expected, found none and just held him tightly to his chest, swaying and murmuring apologies for what might have been an eternity. He gently closed Harry's eyes and brushed his hand through his thin hair before placing a delicate kiss on his forehead.

As his sobs turned to sniffles, he rose to place Harry back in his cot, before covering him with his blanket. Into the silence, he whispered hoarsely, 'Goodnight, Pup,' and turned to face Lily. Wiping his face, he absently thought he'd never be able to cry again after the amount he had cried tonight.

'Na-night, Pa'foo,' a small voice responded, and in his grief Sirius very nearly missed it. Nearly falling over himself, he turned on his heel to find his godson rolling onto his front sleepily. As it happened, he definitely did still have more tears left to cry.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** _Three Hallows' Eve_ is a story which diverges from canon on the night of Halloween 1981, and will cover Harry's childhood and first year at Hogwarts. It will _technically_ meet the requirements for the _Jily Meets Harmony_ challenge, as set by the HMS Harmony Discord server, but since Harmony will be 11/12 when this story wraps up, the relationship isn't really going to be all there. (I do have ideas to continue this story in sequel, though!)

It's pretty much completely plotted out, but there's no release schedule for chapters - they come out pretty much as they're finished. That said, if I think of something later down the line that really could have done with being set up in an earlier chapter, I have no qualms about coming back and editing or completely rewriting previous chapters as needed. I'll mention it in an Author's Note at the top of the chapter if I've done that so you can go back and see what's changed if you're reading as the chapters are released..

Also this story doesn't have a beta reader, so please let me know if you spot any errors that have slipped by me.

I hope you enjoy reading the story! Please do let me know what you think.

Peace and love, _amidland_.


	2. The Between

A blinding white light had James squinting just as soon as he'd opened his eyes. It was bright and brilliant, slightly wispy and completely bizarre. He had no idea where he was but his surroundings did look somewhat familiar to him. The lack of colour, though, meant that he couldn't actually discern anything beyond vague shapes, the almost-recognition of which niggled at the back of his mind as thoughts that refused to be brought forth.

Slowly, his memory of the events that had led to his arrival here - wherever _here_ was - came flooding into his mind. Halloween night. Making tea. The wards falling. _Lily, take Harry and go!_ The door. Red eyes. Green light. Pure white.

Dead then, he figured, though the realisation wasn't nearly as troubling or concerning as he thought it really might have been. Of course, as soon as that thought crossed his mind he was filled with an immeasurable guilt at having left Lily and Harry behind. Hopefully they'd forgive him when they got here. _Not for a long time_ , he thought with a strange mixture of sadness and hopefulness.

He took stock of his body and found it thankfully in one piece, though he was naked. _That_ had probably taken him too long to notice, but as soon as he had, he wished for something to cover himself up with. As though summoned by his thoughts alone, he was suddenly clothed in a white robe. It wasn't until he'd finished adjusting his new outfit that he realised he wasn't wearing his glasses. Oddly, he felt more naked without those than he had felt without the clothing.

A set of light footsteps approached him from behind and were soon accompanied by a voice before James had a chance to turn around and face their owner. 'Though I doubt it's much of a consolation, you won't be without your family for very long.' The voice was rich and deeply baritone, its timbre reverberating through his chest and causing an insuppressible shiver to crawl down his spine.

He rose from his knees and turned to face the newcomer. The man standing before him was really quite tall - he had a good foot on James, at least - and so thin as to look unhealthily so. His face was long and his cheeks looked almost hollow. Tendons and veins were clearly visible against the pallored surface of his neck. A loose-fitting black robe hung from his shoulders down to the floor, where it bunched and collected. His eyes possessed no colour - no iris or whites. Instead, they were pure black, as though they were composed entirely of perfectly spherical and all-seeing pupils.

At a glance, the man didn't look like he'd be very kind, but he wore what was unmistakably a sympathetic smile on his face as he inclined his head, motioning to James's right side. On the white floor beside him, the naked form of Lily with Harry in her arms was slowly becoming visible; the thick, ethereal mist that seemed to surround the area had formed a veil of sorts, which was ebbing and receding from the rest of his family. A stray tear traced down his cheek as he noted how peaceful they both looked in death.

Like a light suddenly turning on, James made the connection then. He looked up at the stranger who had approached him. _Death_. The man, or being's, face had taken on a pained countenance as he looked down at the recently-departed mother and son.

James spoke finally, unmistakable grief laced through his quiet voice as he asked the question he least wanted confirmation for. 'We all died then?'

Death remained silent for a moment, still gazing at the two on the floor before he waved his hand and dressed them both in robes similar to those that James had found himself wearing. He hummed thoughtfully then and looked back up to James as he replied to the question. 'Not quite.'

'James?'

Lily had woken up beside him, blinking and straining her eyes against the bright white light that seemed to permeate wherever they were.

'Lily,' he breathed thickly as he knelt down next to her. She was struggling to sit up with Harry still asleep in her arms so he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, helping her up and holding them both close. 'I'm so sorry,' he whispered.

She looked up at him blearily, her regret and grief written clearly in the brilliant eyes that she'd given to their son. 'Me too,' she whispered in reply before lowering her lips to the top of Harry's head. 'I'm sorry he didn't get more of a chance.'

'Well, that's not exactly the case,' rumbled the deep baritone once more. Lily shifted in his arms and turned her head to find the source of the voice. Obviously, she hadn't noticed that they weren't alone.

James cleared his throat. 'Lily, this is - well - this is _Death_.'

Her eyes darted to his in surprise. 'Death?' she questioned so softly that her voice was barely audible.

'Death,' said the tall man by way of confirmation. 'But I'm not here to take the three of you just yet.'

'Then...' James started, but found that no more words would make themselves available to him. He shook his head as though to clear it and settled on a confused, 'What?'

Death gave a small amused smile. 'Tell me, do you know the Tale of the Three Brothers?'

James's eyes widened. 'Of course,' he said at the same time as Lily frowned and questioned 'What's that?'

He looked at her, shocked. 'It's an old children's tale. I'd have thought you'd read it.'

'Why would I read wizard's fairy tales?'

It was a good question, he realised as he cocked his head consideringly. 'Mum read it to me when I was a boy. Basically, it's about three brothers who thought they had beat Death, and how Death took his revenge.' James looked up at Death warily then and found him looking down at them with interest. The man gently sat himself down on the floor to be closer to their level before gesturing for James to continue.

'The story goes that three brothers were travelling and came across a river whose currents were too strong to cross. They were all wizards, of course, so they conjured a bridge over the water but before they could cross fully, Death appeared before them. Angry though he was that they hadn't died like all of the other travellers that attempted to cross previously, Death pretended to congratulate them and offered each of them a prize for their efforts.

'The eldest brother was cocky and requested a wand better than any other - one worthy of the man who had conquered Death. So Death took a branch from a nearby Elder tree and fashioned it into the most powerful wand in existence before presenting it to the brother. The middle brother wanted to rub their victory in Death's face even more, and so asked for the power to recall the dead to the land of the living. From the riverbank, Death took a stone that had been smoothed by the water and gave it to the middle brother. The youngest brother was humble and wise and requested something that would allow him to go forth from the bridge without being followed by Death. Reluctantly, Death gave his own Invisibility Cloak to the youngest brother.

'Then, Death allowed the three brothers to continue on their way. After a while of travelling the three brothers separated, heading for different destinations.

'The first brother ended up in a village and duelled somebody he'd previously had some grievance with. With his new wand in hand, he of course won the duel and left the man dead on the floor. In the inn that night, he boasted loudly about the wand that Death had given him to everybody that would listen. At the end of the night, once he was asleep, another wizard snuck into his room and stole the wand, slitting the eldest brother's throat. And so Death took the first brother for his own.

'The second brother travelled back to his home. There, using the stone, he recalled a girl with whom he had fallen in love before her untimely death. She didn't return fully though, and was silent and cold. It was like there was a veil separating them. Her suffering and his own longing caused the second brother to kill himself so he could really be with her. And so Death took the second brother for his own.

'For years, Death searched for the youngest brother, but he was nowhere to be found. It took until the youngest brother had grown old before he finally took off the Invisibility Cloak and gave it to his son before Death finally found him. At that point, he greeted Death like an old friend and passed on with him willingly.'

A heavy silence followed the end of the tale. Lily had her brows furrowed in an expression that James had come to know quite well - she was trying to figure something out. He found himself looking back and forth between his wife and Death, who was also looking rather contemplative, wondering what they both were thinking about.

It was Death who broke the silence first, a good few minutes after the absence of any sound had become unbearably tense. He dropped his head back, staring at the white expanse which seemed to continue above them _ad infinitum_ as he hummed thoughtfully. Then, he brought his head back and stared at James in a manner that seemed rather more like he was being looked _through_. 'The Deathly Hallows, they came to be known. I always have wondered when they became tied to the legend of the Master of Death.'

Despite Death's comment being posed as a statement, James felt compelled to provide an answer. He cleared his throat. 'Well, supposedly anybody who held all three would become the Master. There's nothing really said about who the Master of Death actually is, so I always thought that it was all the same tale.'

'But it isn't mentioned in the Tale,' Lily pointed out.

'Well... Huh.' He'd never really thought about it before, but she was right.

'The title of "Master of Death" -' Death chipped in, making air quotes at the title, '- is older than the "Deathly Hallows" -' air quotes again, '- by about five centuries. The origins of both, unfortunately, have been amalgamated into one legend, which itself has been bastardised, though such is often the case with legends. It is true that I created the "Hallows": the Wand, the Stone, and the Cloak, though their power is vastly exaggerated, and I did bestow them unto three brothers. The rest, though, is a complete fiction.

'Balance is a critical element in the universe. Order versus Chaos. Reason versus Energy. Good versus Evil. The Living, though, have a propensity to disrupt the universe and cause instability, and there is only so much that I can do to correct that. Fate faces the same issue. As such, we landed upon the imperfect solution of having certain members of the Living as... _ambassadors_ , if you will. People who can help to tip the scales in the right direction. At some point, my ambassador became known as the Master of Death.' He snorted slightly at that, then shrugged his shoulders as if to say _what can you do_?

He continued after a moment. 'There have been six so-called Masters of Death up until today, and the Hallows were created to aid the third, and every subsequent Master has taken possession of them. At some point in history, the legends ended up getting everything confused, I suppose.'

A frown had made its way onto James's face, and as Death spoke, it had got more and more pronounced until he couldn't hold his tongue any longer. 'As interesting as this is, why are you telling us all of this?'

Death opened his mouth to respond but was beaten to the punch by Lily. 'Everything,' she said with an air of almost disbelieving realisation. James looked at her, not understanding what she had picked up on that he hadn't, but she was staring directly at Death. 'Six Masters of Death _up until today_ , you said. There's a seventh, now isn't there?' Her tone was a bizarre mix of accusing and dejected.

Death nodded slowly, seemingly regretfully.

Whatever Lily had worked out, James still hadn't. 'What's going on?'

She turned to look at him, her eyes shining sadly. 'Harry,' she whispered, and -

Oh.

_Oh._

'How?' he croaked, staring Death in his soulless black eyes.

The man sighed heavily. 'I don't choose my ambassadors, they're just born when there is a need for them. Historically, they have lived regular lives until they were needed, at which point they took up the mantle, as it were. The youngest to shoulder the burden before today was thirty-seven.' He frowned deeply and dropped his head back, as though he hoped that the infinite expanse of white above would provide him with the words he needed.

He exhaled sharply and shifted his gaze back to them, continuing with a very solemn and deliberate tone. 'There has been a significant shift in the balance of things over the last few decades. Tom Riddle, who I'm sure you'll know better as Voldemort, had taken steps in an attempt to prevent his natural demise, that is, to become immortal. Should tonight's events have proceeded as expected, Riddle's body would have been destroyed but his soul would have remained with the Living, and he would likely have risen again, causing further unjust death and cruelty. Harry would have survived the attack, though he would have grown up without either of his parents.'

James's brows furrowed in confusion. 'But that's not the case now?'

Death nodded, confirming James's suspicion. 'Where I am patient, Fate is opportunistic. Tonight she has presented Harry with an offer, knowing that he had just watched his mother die in front of him.' Death's pale jaw clenched as he fought to keep his tone even and calm. 'An offer,' he continued after a moment, 'that I have no way to uncover the details of. The only parts of it that I know are that all three of you are to be returned to the Living, and that Tom Riddle has met his true and final death tonight. In return, Harry has agreed to accept the duty - the burden - of Master of Death from this moment forth.'

'How?' Lily asked incredulously. 'How could a one year old _possibly_ make that decision? He can barely speak, for Christ's sake!'

Death shook his head tiredly. 'I don't know, but he has. The deal has been sealed. Tonight, Fate has decided to step in, and has taken any decision out of my hands. You live, Riddle dies, and the seventh Master of Death has awoken. That's all I can tell you because that's all that I know,' he admitted, sounding more than a little helpless, James thought.

Lily's shoulders slumped and she looked down at their son, kissing him on the crown of the head as she rocked him gently.

'What does that mean for Harry?' James found himself asking, in a voice that was suddenly quite hoarse and strained. 'Being the Master of Death, I mean. How does that change things?'

Death gave another heavy sigh. 'I honestly couldn't tell you with much certainty, but I can tell you what it won't mean. He won't be a warrior, and won't cause undue death or suffering - he won't be capable of it. Historically, my ambassadors have brought aid to those who need help passing on. They've soothed and reassured those who are close to passing. Healed those who are approaching an untimely demise. Though, they have also been known to bring judgement upon and condemn those who were likely to bring about imbalance.'

James looked down at Harry, who Lily was still rocking slowly in her arms. 'Will he suffer?' he asked.

'No, I think not, though the burden has weighed heavily on his predecessors,' Death admitted, running a hand down his thin face. 'Perhaps nothing will come of it all until he's older, but unfortunately I heavily doubt Fate would be so kind. What I can promise you, though, is that he'll be completely extraordinary, and I swear that I'll help him as much as I can. This is something that no child should have to work through alone.'

'He won't be alone,' Lily declared. 'He'll have his parents.'

Death smiled softly at that - the first smile any of them had given in a little while. 'Quite right,' he agreed. 'It's about time I sent you all back now, I think. I should hope it'll be some time before I see any of the three of you again, so take care in the meantime, no?'

James chuckled despite himself. 'No offence, but we won't be in any rush to return.'

'No, I should think not,' replied Death, somewhat amusedly.

Just as soon as the man had finished speaking, the white mist that surrounded them began to swirl up in thin wisps which rapidly coalesced into that same veil-like covering that had surrounded Lily and Harry upon their arrival. As it thickened, James could just make out the shape of Death rising to his feet and walking away into the unknown. He felt his eyelids grow heavy as his consciousness began to wane, and soon he fell into a sudden, deep sleep.

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter is not the chapter two that was originally posted, and was almost entirely rewritten in March 2021. If you read the previous one and didn't remember elements of this chapter being there before, that's because they weren't!

Big old thanks to Bob49 from the HMS Harmony discord server for beta reading this chapter for me, as well as a good number of later chapters too.

Thanks very much to you, too, for reading and enjoying this story!

Take care, _amidland_


	3. The Beginning

'Sirius?'

He whirled about to face the source of the voice, starting to get quite light-headed from all of the quick turning around and all the emotions from the night. 'Lily?' he breathed, barely daring to speak aloud in case whatever magic was happening around him got disrupted. Lily sat up slowly, rubbing the dust away from her eyes where it had settled after the decimation of the cottage's roof. 'Lily… what? You _died_.'

'Mostly,' she said cryptically, pressing her fingers to her temples as a horrible pressure built up behind her eyes. 'We need to leave. I'm not sure I understand completely, but we'll explain what we know once we're away from here and safe.'

Sirius's eyes widened in realisation. 'We? Is James-'

'Lily! We need to get away from here, sweet- Padfoot!' As though summoned, James rushed through the door, stopping dead at the sight of his best friend. Sirius crossed the room in a flash and embraced James roughly.

'Prongs! I thought...'

'So did I. We were for a moment, mostly.' James stepped back from Sirius and grabbed him by the shoulders. 'We need to go. Hagrid is downstairs - tell him that _he's_ dead,' he instructed, nodding meaningfully towards the cloaked figure on the floor, 'and that we're all fine for now, but we're moving. Then you should follow us. They'll come for you once they realise the Secret was leaked.'

Sirius took a deep breath and nodded. 'Which one?'

'Earth,' Lily replied for him, and Sirius nodded again before making to leave. 'But Padfoot?' He looked over his shoulder at her as she picked Harry up from the cot. 'Tell _nobody_.'

Wordlessly, he headed downstairs to head off Hagrid. James collected his wand, which was still where he had left it on top of the drawers, and the bag that Lily had dropped to the floor earlier, throwing it over his shoulder. 'Why Earth?'

'I didn't think about the Secret earlier, and was going to go to Haven, but Earth's the only one Peter doesn't know about.'

James's face took on a deep scowl as the full reality of the situation settled on him too. 'I'm going to kill him, Lily.' Her gaze shifted from his face to their son's.

'Maybe that's not your decision to make,' she responded gravely. He sighed deeply and took her hand, nodding as he ceded her point. James turned on his heel, and with a crack the three Potters disappeared.

-oOo-

'But Dumbledore said-' the mumbling giant was cut off mid-sentence.

'It doesn't matter what Dumbledore said, Hagrid!' Sirius snapped. 'They're alive, and all three of them have gone to safety. I don't know what Dumbledore thinks he knows or even how he thinks he knows it, but Harry isn't here for you to take and even if he was, he'd be _my_ responsibility, not Dumbledore's or yours.'

Hagrid looked shame-facedly down at him and he snorted. It was a comical sight to see a man more than two feet taller than you looking ashamed at a verbal lashing. 'I need to go to them, Hagrid. We'll be in touch.' With that, he turned on the spot and disappeared, leaving Hagrid to figure out what to tell Dumbledore on his own.

He reappeared on a dirt road in the middle of a dense forest, looking around the area to ensure that there was nobody around to have noticed his arrival. Releasing his wand from his holster, he began thoroughly checking his person and clothing for tracking charms. Finding none, he started down the road.

After maybe ten minutes of following the canopied track, he turned right and walked a short way into the woods before passing between two trees that, to a casual observer, looked completely unremarkable and indistinguishable from any of the others that he had passed. The second he walked through them, however, a small wooden cabin became visible before him. A short metal chimney stack jutted out and up from one of the walls and was already emitting smoke from the log burner inside, and as he approached, a light from a room on the right of the cabin turned off.

Sirius reached the door and knocked thrice upon it, then paused for a moment before knocking twice more. The door opened a sliver and a wand pointed out at him.

'What did Aspen Lyre say when she rejected Sirius Black in sixth year?' asked the voice of James Potter. Sirius sighed and rolled his eyes; they'd been laughing at him about this for five years now and constantly found new ways to bring it up.

'She said that I reminded her too much of her mother's brother,' he replied petulantly.

The door didn't open, though. 'Because?'

He scowled at the sliver of light between the door and its frame. 'Because he constantly smelled like wet dog,' he hissed. 'Now let me in, you bone-headed menace.'

James barked out a laugh and opened the door to let the now stroppy-faced Sirius Black into the cabin. 'Lily's just putting Prongslet to sleep again, so keep it down. Apparently he doesn't like apparition.'

'Who does?' Sirius kicked off his shoes by the door and moved into the lounge area to warm up in front of the fire. James followed him in, handing him a mug as he settled onto the sofa next to him. Sirius looked warily at him as he accepted the mug, sniffing it suspiciously.

James snorted at his antics. 'It's a '72 Cabernet. Mum and Dad must have left it last time they were here.'

Sirius looked at the mug with interest then and took a sip, closing his eyes in pleasure as the aged red wine hit his taste buds.

'It's funny how all suspicion gets thrown out of the window as soon as he learns there's a percentage involved.'

He opened his eyes to find Lily smirking at him from the doorway, a mug of her own held between her hands. Feeling like they'd let the pretence of normality last long enough, he drew attention to the elephant in the room. 'What happened tonight?'

She moved into the room and settled into the armchair by the log burner. 'Peter was the traitor, and You-Know-Who came. He put up an anti-portkey ward as well as the usual ones, so we couldn't get out.' She swallowed heavily and took a deep breath.

James picked up where she was struggling to continue. 'Then he killed us all - didn't waste any time about it either, got us all with the big green one. Me first, then Lily, then Harry.'

'But... How?' The Potters proceeded to tell Sirius everything that had happened in the not-quite afterlife and their conversation with Death. In short order, the old bottle of Cabernet was empty and Sirius was looking about as shaken as James and Lily felt. 'Why didn't you use the cloak to get out of the house undetected?' he asked after draining his mug with a long gulp.

'It's a bit small for the three of us plus a bag. I mean, you and I barely fit under it together by fifth year. Either way, Dumbledore asked to borrow it last month so we didn't have it to hand. What?' James questioned as a slight frown came across Sirius' face at that last comment.

Sirius shook his head. 'It's probably nothing.' At Lily's raised eyebrow he relented. 'It's just Dumbledore. He'd sent Hagrid to fetch Prongslet from the cottage and take him to Hogwarts, so he clearly knew that something had happened, and seemed to think that Harry needed to be taken care of. I still can't say the address of the cottage which means the Fidelius is still active, so it wasn't like he noticed that had fallen, and he wasn't keyed to any of the other wards.' At some point during his monologue, Sirius had left his seat and was pacing the length of the room wearing a thoughtful but troubled expression. 'He asks to borrow the Invisibility Cloak - one of Death's artefacts, no less, right when you'd arguably need it most. Then there's the whole business with Harry and Fate which makes me think of the prophecy that Dumbledore heard. I mean, that's why you had to go into hiding in the first place.'

'Sirius, stop,' Lily commanded, though without any heat. He looked at her apologetically and sunk back into his spot beside James on the sofa. For a long moment the room was quiet but for the sound of the fire in the burner. 'I don't know who to trust,' she said quietly, her fingers on her temples again.

'Nobody else for the time being,' James said decisively. 'We need to clear Sirius of being the Secret Keeper and let the DMLE know about Wormtail.' He put a hand on Sirius' arm as he made to argue, 'I want him dead just as much as you do, Padfoot, but Merlin knows where he is or who he's with. For fuck's sake, we don't even know when he switched.'

'We need to get in touch with Remus, too. Sooner rather than later,' Lily added, and James and Sirius nodded.

'We need to find out about this prophecy, along with what Dumbledore knows or even has to do with -'

'The Longbottoms,' Lily interrupted, eyes wide. 'Where do the Longbottoms live?'

Sirius racked his brain. He'd been there last year for Frank and Alice's wedding, and yet couldn't remember where _there_ even was. 'They're under the Fidelius too,' he realised suddenly. 'Shit. What's the betting that Dumbledore cast it?'

Lily nodded. 'I was just thinking - Neville was born a day before Harry. That can't be a coincidence?'

James shook his head as he fought back a yawn. 'We'll add it to the to-do list to see if we can find their Secret Keeper, or at the very least figure out a way to warn them. There's nothing else we can do tonight, though.' He rose to his feet and spoke over his shoulder as he led Lily out of the room. 'There are some spare blankets in the bedroom, I'll bring you some out Padfoot.'

Sirius nodded distractedly as he wiped his hands across his face. His head was swimming as he tried to process everything that had happened that night. New dangers, new information, new doubts. The whole world seemed to have tilted on its axis and he wasn't quite sure how to deal with it all. He jumped slightly as Lily sat beside him - he hadn't even heard her return.

She placed the blankets on the arm of the chair and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. 'We'll work through it together, but more importantly, we'll work through it tomorrow. We're of no use to anyone if we're falling asleep standing up,' she joked with a gentle smile, which he returned with what he suspected was actually more of a grimace. Lily squeezed his shoulder and got up to leave the room.

'I'm glad you all survived,' he whispered, but it went unheard as she left the room.

-oOo-

In the morning, the Potters and Sirius sat around the small dining table in the kitchen. Lily carefully spooned porridge into the mouth of Harry who stubbornly seemed to want to wear his breakfast instead. 'Come on, open your mouth please sweetheart,' Lily said, the exasperation in her voice betraying her waning patience. She was immeasurably glad that he didn't seem out of sorts after last night - in fact, from his petulant behaviour, nobody would ever be able to tell that anything had happened to him at all since she'd healed the cut on his forehead.

'No,' the toddler insisted, and both males carefully masked their smirks so as not to give Lily's frustration any reason to turn to them.

'More for me then!' Sirius gleefully exclaimed, and grabbed the plastic spoon from Lily's hand. He scooped a small amount out of Harry's bowl and ate it quickly, making exaggerated sounds of pleasure as he swallowed. The little boy's face took on an indignant frown and when Sirius went to take another spoonful from his bowl, he shot out a hand and snatched the spoon from his godfather's hand, dipping it roughly into the bowl and bringing to his mouth before any more could be stolen.

Lily shot Sirius a thankful look across the table as she wiped porridge off of Harry's face. 'Mine,' the toddler said indignantly, still frowning at Sirius who just chuckled and ruffled his hair.

Setting down his tea, James sighed heavily. 'I think I need to speak to Dumbledore.' At Sirius's wary expression he explained, 'He's going to think that you were the Secret Keeper, so we need to clear you of that. We also need information that presumably only he knows.'

The look on Sirius's face betrayed the fact that he still wasn't particularly keen on the idea. 'He's not very likely to just answer your questions, though, is he? Why break the habit of a lifetime?'

'If he was led to believe that you know more than you do, he might be more forthcoming,' Lily suggested, though even she didn't sound convinced.

James pursed his lips in thought. Their pranking days had given them a good amount of practice of talking their way around people, but it was difficult to mislead when you didn't even know what it was that you didn't know. 'How convinced are you that Frank's boy has something to do with the prophecy?' he asked her.

Lily half shrugged a shoulder as she cast a cleaning charm on Harry's clothes. 'Not very, but I'm even less convinced that it's a coincidence. Two families being hidden under the Fidelius whose babies were born a day apart? Edgar and Penny had Emily in January and they weren't put into hiding.'

'I could make out like I know what the prophecy says and try and use that to leverage something, I guess. From what it sounds like, it comes down to either Harry's or Neville's fate being tied to _him_.'

Sirius nodded in agreement. 'And considering that Dumbledore took it so seriously, and that _he_ came specifically for Harry, it must have been something more than just one of them being killed. Maybe that they'd grow to defeat him? You mentioned that Death talked about the bastard having made himself functionally immortal and that he'd cause even more problems.'

Though he could understand the reasoning, the thought of his boy having been fated to defeat one of Britain's most horrific Dark Wizards in modern times sent a shiver down James's spine. Of course, they could all be entirely wrong about the prophecy's content anyway. 'If I thought I could get away with it, I'd go to the Department of Mysteries,' he sighed.

Lily reached across the table and held his hand. 'It's not worth the risk. There's no way of telling what might happen if you go out in public. I doubt that nobody has noticed that _he_ 's been defeated, regardless of wheŧher anybody knows the details or not.'

James looked up at the ceiling as though it might tell him the answers. 'I know, it'd just be easier if we knew what it actually said.'

'Dada?' He brought his face down to look at his son, the gentle smile that had graced his face dropped in an instant as he saw that Harry's usually bright green eyes were instead pure black. An expression of pure childish innocence and curiosity was still worn by the toddler as though nothing was unusual, though really that just served to make the situation even more unsettling than it otherwise might have been.

James shot to his feet in an instant and raced around the table to lift his son into his arms. 'Harry?' he asked shakily.

His concern was met with a smile. 'The Lost Prophecy was made by Sybil Trelawney to Albus Dumbledore on the thirty-first of January nineteen-eighty.' The voice that spoke was unmistakably his Harry's, coming from Harry's own mouth, though it was mixed with a low unearthly whispering that seemed to slightly echo as he spoke. Before this morning, the sixteen-month old had barely spoken a handful of words.

Regardless, he continued, 'She foretold " _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_ "

'The prophecy was overheard by Severus Snape in the Hog's Head Inn. On the thirty-first of October nineteen-eighty-one, Fate has declared The Lost Prophecy of nineteen-eighty and two future prophecies void due to a request by Harry Potter, the seventh Master of Death.'

While Harry spoke, James had moved to sit back down, settling Harry in his lap. He and Sirius listened, gob-smacked, while Lily had at least managed to gather the wherewithal to conjure a pencil and some paper to scribble down what her son was saying. As soon as he'd finished speaking, Harry closed his eyes and yawned tiredly. When his eyes reopened, they were back to the peridot-green that looked so like Lily's, though they promptly closed again as he snuggled into James' chest and fell asleep.

'Well,' Sirius said quietly as they all looked at each other with identical dumbfounded expressions. 'That was a little weird.'

* * *

**A/N:** As ever, this story hasn't been beta'd so do let me know if you find any mistakes or inconsistencies.

I'd like to take this opportunity to clarify that Harry isn't going to be outlandishly powerful or knowledgeable in this story, but he will have episodes of being very different and - as Sirius put it - _a little weird_.

Thanks for reading, _amidland_.


	4. The Peverell Artefacts I

'Was it always this small?'

James snorted derisively at the comment, but stopped for a moment. 'I was going to say that it must have been, but literally everything else about Hogwarts seems to move and change on a whim, so- Ouch! Look where you're going, Padfoot!'

He crouched to rub his ankle where Sirius had just kicked it, but instead found himself sprawling forward onto the muddy floor of the tunnel as he got shoved in the back. 'How am I supposed to look where I'm going when I'm bent double?' he hissed. 'How about you don't stop dead right in bloody front of me?'

Picking himself up off the ground, James shot a glare at Sirius before continuing on. The rest of the walk continued on in silence until they reached the base of the Whomping Willow. He thumped the knot on the tree's trunk and slowly raised his head out of the opening. Seeing no students about, he motioned Sirius to follow him and quickly ducked out and snuck towards the castle.

'This would be so much easier if we had the Map,' Sirius muttered as the crept around the wall of the West Tower. No sooner had he finished speaking than he grabbed James's wrist and gasped. 'Prongs, it'll still be in Filch's office, I bet!'

He yanked his arm from Sirius's grasp and glared at him. 'It doesn't matter, we need to get to Dumbledore's office without being seen. Filch's is on the other side of the castle.'

They stared each other down for a moment and Sirius eventually relented with a roll of his eyes. 'We could get it on the way out?' he posited as they continued towards Greenhouse Three where one of the panels was loose enough to get through.

'Shut up, Padfoot.'

-oOo-

Albus Dumbledore hummed as he made his way through Hogwarts, returning to his office after a good Sunday dinner in the Great Hall. Over the last few years, he'd started to neglect eating with the students in favour of taking a good portion of his meals in his own office or quarters while trying to plan and organise the effort against Tom Riddle and his Death Eaters. Today was, in fact, the first Sunday roast he'd had downstairs since long before the end of the last school year, and he found that he had quite missed it.

In the past year, a great tension had settled upon the occupants of the old castle, students and staff alike. A sense of trepidation was hung palably in the air. It seemed like at least twice a week a Post Owl swept into the hall and delivered to a student the devastating news that they'd never see a certain member of their family again.

Tonight, though, that tension had begun to lift. Of course, it wouldn't completely disappear overnight; there were still far too many of Tom's followers out in society for people to relax fully. The head of the serpent had been cut off, nevertheless, and the tension that had become nearly unbearable for the Headmaster would now slowly begin to wane as society healed.

Albus frowned. Whilst he revelled in the opportunity that the students now had to just enjoy their time in Hogwarts and simply be free to act as young adults should, he wasn't entirely sure how long the peace would last. It wasn't a happy thought.

The fact that the Potters had all survived settled him slightly, but the prophecy said that Tom would mark the young boy, and the survival of James and Lily, however they'd managed it, meant he hadn't had a chance to check. Obviously he was beyond thrilled to hear that all three Potters still lived. Really, he thought, this would be one time in his life where he'd be overjoyed to be proven wrong, but there was still something that didn't add up. Albus Dumbledore was missing a part of the puzzle, and without it, he didn't think he'd get his answers.

There was also the matter of young Sirius. Truly, he'd been beyond shocked to find that the Fidelius charm on the Potters' cottage still remained despite the attack. That meant that Riddle had been told the Secret. That meant that Sirius Black was a traitor. Having seen the boy come through Hogwarts with James, and then taken in by Fleamont and Euphemia, Albus would have sworn that there wasn't a chance that Sirius would betray the boy who had become something of a brother to him. Added to all that, the fact that he was seemingly the first into the Cottage last night, and there was no trace of any of the three Potters, was worrying to say the least.

Despite his anxieties, the Headmaster smiled slightly as he climbed the stairs to his office. Over the last few years, as the war had really started to ramp up, a great number of the portraits had taken to arguing with each other about the virtues of either the pureblood dogma or the ideal of societal equality. It had started as a number of debates, which Albus had enjoyed listening to at the time on an intellectual level. As the war waged on though, the portraits had grown louder, angrier and more disgusting in their arguments until Albus finally snapped and raised his voice at them, putting them in their place. Since that day, the portraits had all remained largely silent unless addressed.

News of the Light's victory in the war must have settled them, though, as he heard a number of voices carrying down the stairway. The smile quickly turned into a look of puzzlement when he identified one of the voices as Phineas Nigellus Black.

'You can't be in here, boy! I know you had a penchant for trouble when you were a student, but this is the Headmaster's office and you've no right to be here.'

A former student in his office? But who? How had they got into the castle undetected? Albus instinctively slipped his wand into his hand as he slowly approached his door, which was slightly open.

'Oh piss off, Phineas. Why don't you go back to your other frame and give dear Mother and Father an update on their favourite disappointment?' sneered the voice of Sirius Black. Albus eyes widened. At least that partially explained how he'd got into the office undetected. Even now, he'd still never completely figured out how the self-styled Marauders had made their way around the castle when they were students.

'You don't even know your own father died two years ago?' Phineas shouted. 'You're a stain on this family, and you dishonour the name Black!'

A loud thud followed that remark, before angry footsteps stormed across the office. 'And I'm proud of it, you bigoted old prick!' came the screaming reply.

Albus was startled. Sirius Black had snuck into his office, and was now waxing wroth about bigotry and the rest of the Black family. He put his wand away and straightened himself up. Perhaps he might just be proven wrong tonight after all.

'Good evening to you too, Mr Black,' he said lightly as he opened the door to his office. Sirius spun to face him, looking like he'd just been caught with his hand in Albus' bowl of lemon drops. From the seat in front of his desk rose another man. James Potter smirked at his friend before nodding to Albus. 'Oh, and Mr Potter too. My apologies James, I didn't see you there.'

'Good evening, Albus. Sirius, are you willing to pause your thoughts of familicide long enough to join us in conversation?' James asked lightly.

Sirius looked at the two men slightly abashed, obviously just now realising that he'd let his temper get away from him. He moved to a seat in front of the desk as Albus walked into the room and settled himself at his desk, facing the young men.

'Albus, I'd like to say straight away that Sirius is not the Secret Keeper for the Cottage. I'd gladly give an oath or submit to Veritaserum on the matter if you'd like the reassurance.'

Albus's eyebrows practically hit his hairline and he leaned forward in interest. 'I don't think that will be necessary, though I would be incredibly interested in knowing who actually holds the Secret, and how you managed it? After all, the Fidelius I cast is still the one that stands, if I'm not mistaken?'

James nodded, confirming that last question. 'It's been Peter all along. We had him polyjuiced as Sirius when you cast it so nobody was any the wiser. Our thinking was that everybody would assume that Sirius was the Secret Keeper, and nobody would look to Peter.' The young man's expression suddenly soured. 'Obviously, that turned out to be a mistake.'

Albus sat back in his chair in surprise. He'd never even considered the possibility of posing as somebody else while casting the Fidelius Charm. Really, it was an oversight he should never have overlooked. 'Indeed. And where is Mr Pettigrew now?'

'We don't know,' Sirius admitted. 'We moved from the Cottage to another location, and this is the first time we've left. Lily and Harry are still there.'

'They're both okay, I hope?'

James nodded and leaned towards him, speaking in an undertone, 'Albus, the prophecy has been voided.'

He felt his eyebrows rise to his hairline. What do these two know about the prophecy? More importantly, how? He was certain that he was the only person to know it in its entirety. Sybil remained unaware, and Severus Snape was found before he could hear more than the beginning. 'Voided? Would you be willing to share how you've come to know this?'

They shared a look for a moment. Sirius shrugged one shoulder slightly and James nodded. Obviously having come to some sort of decision, he sat back in his chair. 'It's quite a tale, actually. Is this room secure?'

Albus' eyebrows raised again and he pushed his half-moon spectacles up his nose. Withdrawing his wand, he pressed it to a series of runes on the side of the desk, one of which seemed to cause all of the portraits to spin into the walls and another made the doors disappear and the solid walls of the castle stretch to stand in their place. He nodded and gestured at the young men before him to begin.

-oOo-

Taking off his glasses and placing them on his desk, Albus took a long deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. 'Quite a tale indeed.'

James chuckled slightly. 'How do you think we feel?'

Albus put his glasses back on and made a gesture with one hand. The pensieve gently floated off of the desk and back to its place in the cabinet between the shelves. 'This has reminded me, actually, that it's about time I return the cloak. I beg forgiveness that it has taken me so long to do so, I had honestly forgotten that I still had it.' He reached down and tapped his wand against the bottom drawer of his desk, murmuring a password under his breath. The drawer clicked and rolled open of its own accord, and from it, he withdrew the Invisibility Cloak. 'This does, in fact, explain the shortcomings in my attempts to understand and perhaps even replicate the Cloak's incredible properties. Certainly now I know I could never hope to do either.'

James took the Cloak as the Headmaster offered it. It felt heavier in his hand than it ever had before, though he supposed that could just be for the weight of the knowledge of what the artefact truly was. 'Lily's father used to like the phrase " _All's well that ends well._ "' he offered, and the old man gave an obviously relieved smile.

'A William Shakespeare play. One of the greatest bards Britain will ever know, I should think. One of his sons was a wizard, did you know?'

'I had no idea,' James said.

Sirius snorted, 'I still have no idea. Who's William Shakespeare?'

'You've got no culture, either.'

Albus cleared his throat to head off the impending insult match and they both turned back to him sheepishly. James reeled his mind back through the conversation trying to land on something relevant in order to distract Albus from his amused grin. It always had felt wrong when the Headmaster humoured them like this. The immaturity didn't suit the _most powerful wizard_ personality that he wore for the public, and it was always jarring to see.

Thankfully, the old man resumed the conversation again. 'Young Harry taking possession of the Hallows does present an interesting new dilemma, too.'

James furrowed his brow, wondering where Albus was going with the conversation.

'The Three Brothers became the subject of legend, as we all know, and faded into anonymity. While there are many of those who seek out the Hallows, very few indeed have ever thought to research their provenance. It has long since been my belief that the Three Brothers were in fact Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus Peverell - Ignotus being the youngest, with the cloak, and being an ancestor of yours, James, lends credence to that.'

He looked back at the cloak in his hand. It had been in the family for countless generations, he knew, but had never thought to look into the story being it. 'I think I'll have to fish out the Potter Grimoire at some point. I had no idea about its origins.'

Albus' looked up from the Cloak with keen interest clear on his face. 'If you'd permit an old man his curiosity, I'd be most intrigued to hear what you uncover.'

'As long as there are no family secrets involved, I'd be glad to.'

The Headmaster nodded and then shook his head as though to clear it of stray thoughts. 'We've digressed from the point I had meant to discuss. If Harry is indeed to be the master of all three of the Hallows, then I find myself in an interesting situation.'

The younger men looked at him expectantly. Instead of continuing aloud, he simply drew his wand and, after a brief moment of hesitation, placed it on the desk between them.

It didn't take James very long at all to realise what the Headmaster was saying - or rather, what he _wasn't_ saying. 'The Elder Wand?' he breathed in shock. Sirius' gaze shot comically between him and Albus, who slowly nodded.

'Regardless of how legendary it is, the law won't permit Harry to possess the wand until his eleventh birthday.'

James thought for a moment. 'On his eleventh birthday though?'

Albus nodded, not missing what James was really asking.

'Then you should keep it safe until then. You've held the truth of it for as long as you've had it. Undoubtedly, it's as safe in your hands as anywhere else we could keep it.' A heavy silence filled the room for a moment, before James broke it again. 'Speaking of safety - the Longbottoms' boy, Neville. What Sniv- ah, Severus overheard of the prophecy could have applied to him, couldn't it?'

Nodding, Albus' gaze settled somewhere in the middle distance. He thought for a moment, then nodded again, as though settling some internal debate he was having. 'Yes. I'll let Frank and Alice know not to leave their place of safety just yet.'

'And their Secret Keeper?' Sirius asked.

'I'd trust him with my life.'

'And well that may be,' Sirius continued, 'but do you trust them with _Neville_ 's?'

Albus smiled reassuringly at them both. 'I understand you're both concerned when it comes to Secret Keepers at the moment - justifiably so,' he added, '- but Frank and Alice chose their Secret Keeper on my suggestion, and got Augusta's approval also.'

James made a conscious effort to relax. Just because his so-called friend had been quick to betray him didn't mean that everybody else was a traitor too. 'What do the public know about what happened last night?'

Before he'd even finished asking the question, Albus was handing over the latest edition of the Daily Prophet with a slight grimace.

'That'll make it difficult to remain inconspicuous,' James deadpanned at the sensational headlines.

-o-

**HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED DEAD  
** **POTTERS DEFEAT THE DARK LORD  
** **BRITAIN IN PEACE ONCE MORE**

_Sources have informed the Daily Prophet this day that last night, Saturday 31st October 1981, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was defeated at the secret home of the Potter family._

_James, Lily, and Harry Potter were peacefully celebrating Halloween in their cottage when their evening was interrupted by an attack from the Dark Lord himself. Though it is unknown how You-Know-Who came to meet his end, our sources have told us that half of the roof of the Potter home had been destroyed in the battle, and yet all three of the Potters managed to flee from the site uninjured._

_A person close to the elder Potters, who requested to remain anonymous, speculated that Lily Potter (neé Evans) had developed some type of new spell or ward that You-Know-Who didn't know how to avoid. 'She's an incredibly bright witch,' the person told this reporter, 'especially for a Muggle-born. I'd put my money on this being something she thought up. Merlin bless her, if so, and Merlin bless the Potters!'_

-o-

The article continued for another page and a half in much the same way, finding at least six different ways of spouting the same tripe. It provided a whole host of 'anonymous sources', all of whom were likely people who had attended Hogwarts with them, to whom they'd never spoken a word. Knowing the British magical population though, it'd likely be unsafe to be seen in public for a decade or two. About half of the article vaunted him as having finished Voldemort, half again declared that it was Lily who had finished him off, and a small paragraph towards the end claimed to quote an Unspeakable who suggested that they'd finished the Dark Tosser off with a ritual.

'I'm assuming they got the only three actual facts in the article from Hagrid?' Sirius asked resignedly once he'd finished with the paper and handed it back to the Headmaster. Evidently he'd come to the same conclusion.

Albus' silver moustache twitched a bit as he smirked. 'Once he'd returned to me with the news, it is my belief that Hagrid took himself to the Three Broomsticks and enjoyed a nice quiet drink in celebration.'

James rolled his eyes. 'There's already very little we can do about it. Everything we say contrary to the article will just be put down to humility or secrecy. I'm sure Lily will think up something to tell them. Speaking of which…' He looked at his watch and rose to his feet. 'I think it's time we get back to her. If there's anything we can do, Albus, let us know.'

The old wizard rose to his feet in kind and offered out his hand. 'And the very same goes to you; you've both already demonstrated that you know where to find me,' he smiled genially. 'I'll stay in touch to keep you up to date. Hopefully it won't be much longer before you're able to walk around without fearing for your life.'

Saying their goodbyes, James and Sirius left the office and descended down the stairs past the Gargoyle, who gave them a sly wink. James stopped Sirius as he began to walk back the way we came. 'I think we've got enough time to leave Minny with a note, no?'

Sirius grinned and his eyes lit up before he shifted into his Grim animagus form. James covered himself and his now canine best friend with the Cloak and set off with a slight smirk that inexplicably caused a shiver to go down the spine of every Professor who had ever taught the Marauders.

* * *

**A/N:** Hope you enjoyed this chapter! As ever, please let me know if you notice any spelling errors or inconsistencies.

We're starting to move into the plot from here on out, and we'll be skipping time a fair bit over the next several chapters as Harry grows up.

Thanks for reading, _amidland_


	5. The Stork's Assistant

_Wednesday 23rd February, 1983_

'When should we tell Harry?'

'What would we say? He's two years old, he's hardly going to understand.'

'We need to tell him at some point, Lily.'

She huffed and glared at him. 'And you think I don't know that? I know the healer said it likely wouldn't be a problem but dark magic has lasting effects, James! We were literally killed, for Christ's sake!'

'And then came back to life thanks to _Death himself_ giving us our lives back. I reckon that he's a pretty good authority on these sorts of things,' James deadpanned, but immediately regretted the levity when he saw the look on her face. He sat back down on the bed next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered, kissing the crown of her head.

Lily wiped her face and nodded. 'Me too. I'm just not feeling very optimistic at the moment.'

-oOo-

_Friday 13th May, 1983_

Lily frowned as she looked out the kitchen window. May was definitely supposed to be the start of summer, or at the very least the end of spring. May was definitely not supposed to be absolutely throwing it down with rain. The overcast sky seemed to permeate a feeling of discontent and uneasiness; it was almost two o'clock and all morning it had taken a conscious effort to stay busy and try to swallow the general feeling of anxiety that she'd woken up with.

Dumbledore had said to her once that Divination as a branch of magic was 'woolly at best', and Minerva didn't mince her words at all when discussing the subject. Nevertheless, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong today, and it didn't help her unsettled mind in the slightest that she seemed to be the only person that thought so.

James had really quite cheerfully bid her farewell in the morning as he left for work. The fact that anybody could be as chipper as he was when going to the Ministry was frankly mind-boggling to her. Not that there was anything wrong about what he did for a job - no, indeed, quite the opposite.

In the New Year following their dramatic revival (they'd agreed not to call it a _survival_ because, well really, they hadn't actually survived), they'd had a long conversation about everything they knew now that they hadn't known before that Halloween. One topic that they'd spoken about at length was Death's reveal that Voldemort would have returned to cause even greater cruelty and tyranny before he finally died for good. They had discussed and despaired time and again just how Britain could have possibly fallen into the same trap twice in a lifetime. When the first Death Eater trials began soon thereafter, they found the horrifying answer to that question.

There had been a long delay after Voldemort's defeat before any Death Eater had been put forward for trial. The Ministry had decided that in order to put the War well and truly behind them, an effort would be made to 'clean house' first. Of course, it wasn't a decision they'd come to themselves, but after a few words here and there from themselves and Dumbledore, the fools in power had fallen over themselves in their efforts to agree. There were some uses to be had from the frankly amoral levels of fame that the British Wizarding public had thrust onto the name Potter.

Once all was said and done in the Ministry, forty-one witches and wizards had been taken into custody, most of whom had been senior members of staff. The Department of Magical Transportation had been the worst - it had lost everybody from the top three levels of their hierarchy.

Only once the Ministry had been swept of people who could have 'stopped proper justice from being pursued', in the words of Minister Bagnold, did the trials begin in earnest. It soon became clear, though, that it wasn't only the people who were Marked that caused problems in the justice system, but the general attitude of the Wizarding upper classes at large. The Wizengamot on whole voted more leniently in the first trial of a pure-blood wizard than they had for any of the three trials for half-blood wizards that had taken place previously.

The rich old bigots had been perfectly willing to accept Lucius Malfoy's defence that he'd been _imperiused_ into taking the Mark until James very publicly called for the use of Veritaserum in British trials. The German Ministry had developed a variant of the potion that was practically impossible to circumvent and had been used throughout Europe for more than a decade. The public outcry had been so huge that the Wizengamot had little choice but to implement the change.

After seeing how effectively his lobbying had worked, James decided that he was going to get involved in 'societal reform' and bring Wizarding Britain into 'at least the 1960s, kicking and screaming if need be'. His natural charisma and leadership skills on top of the reverence that was now held for the name Potter meant that in the last couple of years, he'd made more progress than any of them could even have reasonably hoped for. That said, they'd learned that it was one thing to convince people that something needed to change, and another thing entirely to convince them that they actually wanted it changing in a timely manner.

Lily shook herself free from her melancholy as best she could and sent a heating charm to her now-cooling tea before adding the milk. She returned to the living room of their Cambridge house to find Harry in the middle of a tornado of soft plush toys. In the last year his control of magic had grown to be seemingly innate. He never really performed anything particularly focused, but it had become a common enough occurrence to find him playing with moving or floating toys that they'd had to have a tall hedgerow planted in front of their house so that the neighbours or passers-by didn't get a glimpse at the impossible goings-on in the Potter household.

She settled down into the sofa and tucked her feet up underneath her, grabbing the book she had been re-reading from the side table: _My Magical Genealogy_ by Amadeus Brotlin. For many, it wouldn't have been a particularly gripping read, but it had turned out to be an invaluable resource for a project she'd been working on for the last 18 months. Since James had told her about his conversation with Dumbledore and the subsequent realisation that he was a descendant of Ignotus Peverell, Lily had decided to research methods of proving a magical person's lineage and had been told about Brotlin's book by an acquaintance from the Department of Mysteries.

Brotlin was an American Muggle-born wizard who had discovered through Muggle genealogical research that he was actually a distant relative of the Salotto family - one of America's oldest magical families who were thought to have died out centuries ago. The Dwarfish bank of America, _Velskytte's_ , had kept the old Salotto vault closed for nearly three hundred and fifty years, having been quoted as saying that 'presumably extinct is not extinct'. The fact that the blood-magic locks were still in place on the vault door had backed up their insistence, which had caused them to release what Lily thought might just be the most smug press release in history upon Brotlin's claiming and subsequent opening of the vault.

The fact that the blood-magic had remained in place while the family had been dormant for centuries had Lily considering how the locks could identify such a distant descendant as a part of the family, and had led her down a fascinating avenue of research as to whether a magical person's blood could be used in conjunction with some kind of charm or enchantment to show their ancestry.

She reached across her body for her mug, not taking her eyes off the passage she was reading, but exhaled sharply when she felt a sharp pain in her abdomen. Bringing her hand down to settle at her navel, she gasped again as a stabbing pain had her nearly doubling over. She brought her legs from where she had them tucked up beneath her, only to find her white linen bottoms blotted with blood. As nonchalantly as she could, she picked up her wand from the side table and cast a cleaning charm on herself while trying desperately to calm her racing heart.

'Harry? Could you do Mummy a favour, please?' He looked up at her from where he was playing on the floor and she smiled at him as calmly as she could manage. 'Would you go and grab Mummy's mirror from the table in the kitchen, please?'

All of the toys around him dropped to the floor in an instant and he smiled sweetly at her before getting to his feet and wandering out of the room. Lily dropped her head back and took a deep breath to calm herself. She had told James that something like this would happen, but then had gone and let the handsome fool get her guard down. Taking a deep breath, she resolved to do what she'd always done in moments of panic or high emotion: detach herself and think it through logically.

First things first, she needed to call James so he could come and get her to the hospital. Next, she needed to get someone to come and look after Harry. Alice would be at work, and Sirius said he was taking Heidi away for a long weekend to Paris. Remus, then. It had been a few weeks since they'd seen him, too, so Harry would probably be quite happy to have his Uncle Moony to himself for a little while.

Despite her attempts to distract herself, she was struggling to hold back her emotions. James had been getting so excited over the last month and despite her better judgment, so had she. They'd sat up in bed every night for the last week talking about names and colours for the nursery. It didn't look like they were going to be needing those now.

The patter of feet had her wiping her cheeks as Harry came back in. 'Here you go, Mummy.'

Offering him the best smile she could muster, she replied, 'Thank you, darling,' and silently cursed when she heard how weak and shaky her voice had sounded. By the furrowing of Harry's brow and the slight tilt of his head, he'd heard it too. For once, she thought, it'd be nice not to have such an observant child.

'Wha'sa matter?' he asked concernedly.

Lily took another deep breath in an attempt to get a hold of herself. 'Mummy just has a bit of a tummy-ache, that's all.'

Harry's furrowed brow gave way to a look of understanding as his gaze dropped to where her hand lay on her belly. 'Oh,' he said lightly, and scrunched his eyes shut, only for them to snap open a moment later. His bright expressive eyes had given way to those pure black orbs that had first appeared on that morning after Halloween two years ago, but hadn't reappeared since. 'I can fix your tummy-ache, Mummy,' he said with whispering undertones weaving their way through his voice.

She couldn't help but look at him warily, but he just smiled the same sweet smile he always did when he found a way to be helpful and clambered clumsily up onto the sofa beside her. He gently took her hand and pulled it away from her body before placing his two small hands where hers had been. A feeling of calm almost immediately washed over her, and her mind quickly went blissfully clear. Her breathing slowed to normal as she watched Harry tilt his head slightly as he always did when he was trying to work something out.

Slowly, from underneath his hands, a silver light started to grow and spread around most of her torso. The stabbing pain slowly ebbed away and even the slight backache that had started to make itself known over the last week or so started to ease up. After maybe two minutes, the light slowly receded and faded and Harry removed his hands.

'All better,' he whispered with a smile. 'You're both okay now.'

'Both?' Lily asked, shocked. They still hadn't told him that she was pregnant. He yawned and she watched as the blackness in his eyes shrank down to the usual size of his pupil, bringing his green irises and the whites of his eyes back with them.

'You and my sister,' he mumbled simply, before shifting his weight and curling up into her side. Then, he promptly fell asleep as though nothing extraordinary at all had just taken place.

She sat there for a moment in a daze as it gradually dawned on her the full weight of what had just happened. Harry had just saved his sister's life. His sister's. They were going to have a baby girl. She wiped her suddenly damp eyes and gently placed a kiss on the top of her son's head.

'Thank you,' she whispered, and he snuggled into her side a bit tighter. She looked at the mirror in her hand, more than slightly overwhelmed with the events of the last fifteen minutes. The melancholy and anxiety she'd been feeling as she made her tea had disappeared like the pain behind her navel. She was overwhelmed, she was elated, she was a bit shaken, but above all, she was content.

But she'd still have to go and get checked out at St. Mungo's anyway, she thought as she whispered her husband's name into the communication mirror.

* * *

**A/N:** A shorter chapter, but I really didn't feel right dragging the subject on any more.

As ever, I'm my own beta so if there are any mistakes in this chapter or any before it, please do let me know.

Peace, _amidland_.


	6. The Flip Side

_Friday 8th July, 1983_

Lily loved her husband. Really, truly, and whole-heartedly Lily loved James Potter to pieces and had done for years.

But.

He had been really making it difficult of late. More than once now, they'd had this conversation - in fact it was starting to feel like a weekly occurrence, and she was frankly sick of repeating herself. Sure, he apologised profusely every time she brought it up and said he wasn't thinking and that it wouldn't happen again, but every seven days it turned out that it had happened again and he'd be apologising again.

There was a literal human growing inside of her and she seemed to be more competent than him at the moment. And it must have been a matter of competence, for that's all it could have been after this week. Growing up, her mother had always repeated the phrase like a broken record: 'Once is a mistake, twice is a pattern, three times is a habit.' As she frustratedly circled today's date on the calendar in the kitchen, she asked herself what seven times was.

Infuriating, that's what it was. Here she was, at home, actually growing their daughter, and for the seventh week _running_ , he'd eaten the last of the chocolate. There was none in the cupboard. There was none in the fridge even though he didn't like cold chocolate. The bar she'd left in the box of tea bags was gone, despite the fact that he didn't drink tea. He'd found the bar that she'd hidden in the jar on the bookcase. Every single hiding place she thought of, he'd found and cleared.

So, for the seventh week running, she was idly wondering whether her husband being a thieving little bastard who could sniff out chocolate a mile away was adequate grounds for divorce. She knew she wasn't really being fair on him; he'd been running himself ragged for the last two months or so.

In April, a seven year old Muggle-born girl called Alyssa had been beaten to death by her parents after a display of accidental magic. While it probably wasn't the first time, the police had gotten involved and upon their arrest, the parents had described a number of the girl's 'freakish' acts. The strangeness of the case had gotten some attention from a number of different aspects of the government, and as such the Ministry had had to get involved to avoid a massive breach to the Statute of Secrecy.

Using the risk to the Statute as a convenient basis, James had worked with Dumbledore and a handful of Wizarding lawyers to draft the '(1983-05a) Muggle-born Intervention Act', or as they were informally calling it, 'Alyssa's Law'. They proposed a restructuring of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement by merging the Improper Use of Magic Office with the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, and creating a new Monitoring of Underage Sorcery Office.

The M.U.S. would be responsible for all underage sorcery violations, and also quarterly non-invasive checks on underage Muggle-born children after their first sign of magic. Should the young wizard or witch's home environment become strained or difficult to the point where the child or the Statute could be at risk, the Office would step in and introduce the family to magic and Wizarding Britain. If the risk to the child or Statute did not decrease thereafter, the Office could intervene and help to rehome the child in the Wizarding world.

It was an extremely liberal, and therefore extremely ambitious, motion to put before the generally very conformist Wizengamot, but James and Dumbledore believed that by selling it as a means to protect the Statute of Secrecy, they had a good chance of it being successful. If so, it would be a huge boon for some of the other reforms that James had been working on and the biggest piece of law that they'd managed to get ratified so far.

On top of doing all of that, James had also been working on the nursery when he was home because Lily was useless at decorating. So far, he'd managed to paint a mural that filled an entire wall of the room, and was in the process of carefully incorporating the rune scheme that Lily had designed for protective and monitoring wards.

So she knew that she wasn't being fair to him by snapping at him when he was home, but she'd been craving chocolate for almost two months and the damn man couldn't stop himself from eating any and all chocolate products that she bought with the weekly shopping. She sighed in frustration as she passive-aggressively added 'chocolate, again' to the bottom of the shopping list on the fridge and went back to the dining table to continue the work she'd been doing on her genealogy project.

After exchanging a handful of letters with Amadeus Brotlin and having had a number of meetings with one of St Mungo's Healing Researchers, she'd managed to prove that a magical person's blood could _in theory_ be used to trace their lineage. Brotlin had really rather kindly uncovered and shared with her the details of the blood ward used on the Salatto vaults, and she'd spent the last fortnight breaking it down and investigating the arithmancic principles to find out how it identified distant relatives of the ward's creator, but it had proven to be one of the most intricate and complicated pieces of magic she'd ever seen and as such was devilishly hard to pick apart.

A particularly strong gust of wind coming in from the open window sent some of her notes flying off of the table and onto the floor. She frustratedly blew at the hair that had been blown into her face by the draught and got up to collect the strewn parchment. Reaching for the last sheet, she froze and tilted her head. The sheet had one of the cyclic diagrams she'd drawn in an effort to understand how the different elements of the ward interacted, but viewing it upside down had her looking at it from another angle, both literally and figuratively.

Up until now, she'd been working on the assumption that the ward had been identifying something in the magical person's genes, comparable to how Muggle DNA testing checked for relationships between people, but looking at the diagram like this, it became suddenly clear that that wasn't the case all. The ward was actually identifying the traces of the person's _magic_ in the blood, and recognising the magical legacy of the ward's creator.

Evidently, a person's magic had an echo of the magic of their ancestors. It was an idea that was kind of horrifying for society when she considered how blood-bigots could warp the meaning of that; it was one thing for them to call themselves pure-blooded, it was another level entirely for them to have proof of their depressingly straight family tree actually in their blood.

On the other hand, it was completely amazing for Lily's research. It made sense now why she had been having such problems trying to understand how the ward identified the person - she had been looking for entirely the wrong thing. She hurriedly snatched up the page and returned to the table, finding a new sheet of parchment and redrawing the diagram to reflect what she'd just figured out, then rifled through the rest of the pages to find the sections of her notes that were relevant to this new understanding.

After about an hour of re-ordering, expanding, and double checking equations while cross-referencing them with some of the warding books she'd bought, Lily finally sat back with a smile like the cat that got the cream. It turned out that she'd actually already managed to isolate most of the parts of the ward that identified and verified the person, but because she'd be approaching it wrong, she hadn't recognised key parts of it, and so it hadn't made sense. All it took was a small change in perspective and it had all ended up coming together in one of the most exciting puzzles she'd ever done.

It was about then that something caught her attention, or much rather the lack of anything actually caught her attention. Not since she would squirrel herself away in the corner of the Hogwarts library had she managed to find so much time to get really engrossed in whatever she was working on. After graduation, she'd moved straight in with James and she'd never got the peace she was used to while he was around. When he wasn't around, there'd be constant matters involving the war that would work to grab her attention. Since the end of the war, there'd been Harry, and peace and quiet didn't mix well with small children, despite how much she'd prayed for it at times.

Now she had it though, she'd come to discover that there was actually nothing more disconcerting than silence and a lack of interruptions when there was a toddler in the house. While Harry wasn't a troublesome or boisterous little boy, he was rarely still or quiet. Almost constantly the boy was either chuntering away to himself, plodding around the house playing with his toys, watching tv, or otherwise making noise. Even when he slept, he snored.

All celebratory thoughts about her research fled as, in an instant, she was filled with the kind of dread that only the parent of a three year old can feel when they start to wonder just what their uncharacteristically silent child is up to now; her parental dread was made worse by the fact that her child had the Marauders for a father and uncles. Standing from the dining table, she resolved to search the house for whatever shenanigans Harry was almost certainly up to. God, she hoped that James hadn't left the paint and brushes out in the nursery.

Every room downstairs was empty and tidy, but for a few of his toys strewn about in the living room. As she climbed the stairs, the dread built as she started imagining the state in which she'd find the rooms at the top. When she reached the landing though, that was also just as it always was. The dread of mischief rapidly started to give way to a very different kind of fear. Where was her son?

She swung open the door to his bedroom which was no more messy than usual and completely devoid of little boys. The door to the nursery was locked - maybe James was good for something after all - but she unlocked it anyway just in case. That room, too, was in no more disarray than it had been for weeks. He wasn't in there either. They'd not been potty training him for long, but she checked the bathroom too, only to find a distinct lack of toddler in there as well.

Panic was just about starting to set in now. She desperately tried to calm her beating heart as she frantically made her way across the landing to her and James' bedroom. In her rush, she practically ran into the door before managing to open it, and ended up nearly slamming it into the wall. Thankfully, a pile of dirty clothes behind the door stopped it from making a noise. In the room, curled up on her bed around the cat, lay Harry and she let out a sigh of relief.

He looked up at her then with slightly red, wet eyes and sniffled. 'Arty's not very well,' he mumbled and her heart melted. She moved into the room and sat on the bed next to him and stroked his hair.

'Oh, Harry,' she mumbled sympathetically. 'Arty's an old man now. He was already five years old when I got him. It's about time he moved on.'

He sniffled again and wiped a tear from his cheek. 'I think he's got longer, but he hurts so bad, Mummy.'

She frowned slightly as she ran her fingers through the messy black hair he'd inherited from his father. 'How do you know he has longer?'

He shrugged and lifted his head to look at her, and she saw that his pupils were blown to completely cover his irises. The whites of his eyes were still visible as they normally were, which was a change from every other time he'd gone all 'Master of Death' on them. 'I just do,' he whispered and she nodded understandingly, before shifting to lie down on the bed behind him so she could hug him.

They lay there like that for a while, and Lily found herself starting to drift off when he spoke again. 'I can help him go, Mummy, but I don't want him to,' he sniffed miserably, and started crying in earnest.

Her mind was spinning. Raising a child was enough of a challenge - raising a child while also advising Death's ambassador on the mortal plane was another level entirely and for that she felt entirely underqualified. What was she supposed to say to that? As he choked out another sob, she hugged him even tighter and it settled her mind. No matter what sort of duty or burden or life-long job her son had to face, he was her son first and foremost, and right now he was an upset nearly three year old facing the death of his first pet.

She whispered softly to him as she rocked him a little in her arms. 'He's nearly 17 years old, baby, he's had a long life. And he's had such fun too. Think of all the times you've played with him, and all the exploring he's done around Hogwarts, and Godric's Hollow, and Cambridge. I know you're not ready, Harry, but don't you think he might be?'

He didn't respond for a moment, but his cries slowly stopped and he sniffled as he nodded slightly. Gently, he reached and cupped the cat's face and stroked him slightly, and Arty looked up at them both with kind, old eyes as though he knew what was coming. She released her hold on Harry and joined him in stroking her faithful companion of over a decade. 'Thank you, Arty,' she whispered, and she could have sworn he nodded at her. Lily had always thought the cat was smarter than he pretended he was.

'Goodbye, Arty,' Harry croaked, and hugged him. From his hands a familiar golden light grew and covered the cat for a few seconds, then receded just as quickly. Arty curled into Harry a bit more and closed his eyes, lowering his head onto Harry's arm as his breathing slowed to a stop. Lily held Harry close, ignoring the tears pooling in her own eyes as her heartbroken little boy sobbed and mourned the family pet. They lay there for a little while as Lily rocked and soothed and shushed him before he eventually fell asleep in her arms.

Slowly, she extricated herself from the tangle of parent, child and pet, and carefully lifted Arty from their bed and placed him on the chair in the corner where he had taken to sleeping at night. With her wand, she levitated Harry and delicately walked him to his bedroom and lay him down on his bed before tucking him in and kissing him on the forehead.

If the last few times he'd done something like this were anything to go by, Harry would be asleep for the next couple of hours at least, so she made her way back to her bedroom and curled up as she was before, letting herself mourn Arty alone. She cried a little, but focused as best she could on all the funny and silly and adorable memories she had of the cat over the last decade.

Despite the volatile relationship she'd had throughout school with her now-husband, Arty had always adored James. Lily snorted as she remembered grabbing the cat off of James' lap on the first day of second year and marching with it to her dorm where she accused it of being a traitor and explained, in detail, why he shouldn't like James. The second she opened the door, the cat slinked through and headed back downstairs and returned straight onto James' lap.

A fond memory of Minerva approaching Arty for the first time came to Lily's mind soon after. Over the course of second year, he'd been nothing but friendly with everyone - person and animal alike - but as soon as Minerva had gotten close to him in her animagus form, Arty had taken a swipe at her and ran away as fast as he could. Despite him being pleasant to her outside of her animagus form, the Transfiguration professor had held a tongue in cheek grudge against him ever since.

Arty was actually the reason that Lily had discovered that the Marauders had become animagus after she'd caught him chasing a brown rat, managing to claw it in the face before it gave him the slip. When Peter had come to breakfast the following morning with a long, thin cut across his cheek and stammered when she asked how he'd gotten it, Lily managed to deduce what they'd all been up to.

Lily curled up tighter, wearing a bittersweet smile at the memories playing in her head as she cried, and eventually joined her son in a sombre mid-afternoon nap.

* * *

**A/N:** As ever, let me know if you spot any issues in this or any of the other chapters. I am my own beta so mistakes might slip past me.

Thanks for reading, _amidland_


	7. The Way It Is I

Even as a boy, James had known that Wizarding Britain was somewhat backwards compared to Muggle Britain and even Wizarding Europe. His father, Fleamont Potter, had further explained that the upper echelons of their society were even more 'dodgy'. At some point during his schooling at Hogwarts, having met the children of this 'dodgy' high society, James had mentally relabelled the majority of the upper class 'morally corrupt'.

Today, he was trying to relabel them all again but found his vocabulary to be disappointingly lacking. In polite company he'd never be able to use the words needed to label them properly, and in impolite company he'd struggle with using few enough words for it to actually be a label and not a Mastery thesis.

Despite his reputation as a prankster in Hogwarts, he'd developed a strong sense of justice very early on after seeing how his Muggle-born peers were being treated. He'd carried that strong sense of justice through life with a vengeance ever since. When he wasn't planning or participating in mischief or shenanigans, he was often mentally planning what he liked to think of as a sort of peaceful societal coup d'état.

While he had worried about it initially, their fame following the end of the war had actually turned out to be a huge boon for his egalitarian new world order. The name Potter had come to be considered as almost royalty in Britain and, while neither he nor Lily cared for social standing, it had given him quite the soapbox from atop which he could push for change and have people actually listen.

Alyssa's Law was the latest and biggest of his societal reform projects, and would be a triumph if the arseholes in charge would stop arguing about it on the basis of purism. His and Albus's plan to spin the motion as a means to protect the Statute had been a resounding success for the vast majority of the Wizengamot, but unfortunately a small number had turned out to be somewhat intelligent as well as bigoted and had seen through their little white lie.

It was a small mercy that the conniving old gits didn't seem interested in trying to sway the rest of the Wizengamot away from voting in favour of the motion at the moment. Unfortunately they also happened to be the people with the deepest pockets and fingers in all the right pies to bastardise the law to be more discriminatory against than helpful for Muggle-born and Muggle-raised children. Now the energy that James and Albus should have been spending on getting the Law put in place and helping the changes happen smoothly was actually being spent trying to convince the lawmakers that changing the law wasn't, in fact, in their best interest as the bigots had told them it would be.

The entire bloody system was corrupt and it was wearing James down to the bone and all he wanted to do was spend the evening doing very little with his wife and son. After a very long day of damage limitation, he could now go home and perform a little _more_ damage limitation with Lily after having taken the last of her chocolate with him to the office in lieu of breakfast. Thankfully, he'd actually remembered his misconduct before getting home this week, and so was going unto the breach prepared for once.

As he walked up the driveway, he noticed that all of the lights in the house were off so made his way inside as quietly as he could in case either or both of the occupants were asleep. Checking downstairs, he found the kitchen in a bit of a state and cringed when he noticed that Lily had added chocolate to the shopping list. The dining table was, as per usual, completely unfit for its intended function as a result of Lily's research being strewn across it. Judging by the haphazard piles of parchment and open books, though, it looked as though she'd made an effort to be organised which usually indicated that she'd made some kind of breakthrough. Maybe she'd be in a better mood than he thought.

He crept upstairs, checking first in Harry's room and, as expected, found him tucked into bed - fully clothed though, so he'd done something 'a little weird' again. In the master bedroom, Lily was curled up on the bed, also clothed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he gently shook her and she roused slowly.

'Good morning sleepy,' he said quietly with a smile. 'I've returned with apology food.'

'Hey,' she murmured and stretched to turn on her bedside lamp. She smiled half-heartedly at him and instantly his brow furrowed with concern; she'd obviously been crying if her red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks were anything to go by.

'What happened?' he asked, to which she replied by nodding to the chair in the corner of the room. On it, Arty was lying as usual, but he quickly realised what the issue was. 'Oh, Lily, I'm sorry.'

She sniffled a bit and leant into his hand as he caressed her cheek sympathetically. 'Harry could tell he was close to death but in pain, so he put him down this afternoon.'

'Oh, Merlin,' he muttered and closed his eyes, not wanting to think how that had gone down. Their toddler had been absolutely enamoured with Arty. 'How about I go and bury him by the tree in the garden and order in something for dinner while you freshen up?'

Lily eyed the bag that he'd placed on the drawers by the door. 'You didn't bring dinner home?'

He dropped his gaze and looked at her cautiously through his eyelashes. 'Ah, no. That's a bag full of chocolate,' he admitted sheepishly.

While she looked at him somewhat accusingly, she smirked at him slightly, clearly accepting the peace-offering- _cum_ -apology for what it was.

'Pizza?'

Lily hummed as she stretched. 'Okay, I'll shower and get Harry up.'

-oOo-

They'd put Harry back to bed after a slightly more subdued dinner than usual and settled themselves down in the living room with a glass of elf wine - non-alcoholic as all elf wine was on account of the baby, but it was just as good as the normal stuff.

For a while they sat in a comfortable silence, James enjoying the peace after what had turned out to be an incredibly long Friday, and Lily organising her thoughts. It was eventually James who spoke up.

'Did you find something new with your ancestry research today, then?'

She looked up at him blankly for a moment as she was brought out of her thoughts, then lit up once she'd processed the question. 'Oh! Yes! Turns out I'd been looking at the interaction between the different aspects of the ward completely backwards. Once I realised, everything just sort of fell into place. I didn't pick up on it because I was trying to figure out how it was finding out ancestry from blood, but that's not it at all - it's identifying the traces of a person's _magic_ from the blood, which is all kinds of horrifying to think about if the blood purists find out, but means I can start trying to develop a way to list all of the traces of magic in someone's blood.'

He smirked a bit as she cut herself off and looked at him slightly sheepishly, realising she'd started to lecture. 'That sounds amazing,' he said genuinely. 'Do you have any ideas moving forward?'

'Not really,' she admitted, 'but I think I'm going to write to Filius and see what he thinks. I reckon it's going to be a lot of trial and error, but I'll get there eventually.'

That was definitely true - in a decade of knowing her, James had never once known her to give up on something she set her mind to. No matter how long it took, she'd figure out a way to do it. 'How are you going to make it available to people? If you did it through the Ministry then the whole blood thing would get out within a month.'

Cringing, she shook her head. 'Definitely not the Ministry. I had half a mind on doing it privately, but I don't see how we'd manage to make it more widely available in that case. It'd be such a shame it was limited to Britain.'

'What about licensing it? You could have the goblins and the gnomes manage it here in Europe, and the dwarfs in America. I don't know what the deal is in the East, but you know that the banks won't reveal anything about the process if it makes them money.'

She tilted her head in thought then nodded slowly. 'Plus, other races aren't exactly going to care about blood politics anyway, are they?' He shook his head, agreeing with that thought. 'It would mean splitting a share of the profits, but I don't really care about the money anyway.'

'The money doesn't hurt.'

'No, of course not, but it's not the most important thing. God knows we're not exactly struggling as is. But think about it: if this becomes readily available, Muggle-borns across the world could prove that they're actually descendants of dormant or assumed-dead family lines just like Amadeus.'

'And how many do you think there are? Revived lines because of squibs?' he asked, to which she shrugged in response.

'In Britain, I imagine it's a shocking amount considering the pure-blood attitude towards squibs. As for the rest of the world, I couldn't even begin to guess. Regardless, there are going to be more than a few old gits who'll have very strong and very loud opinions about it, but that's just the way it is,' she said airily with a flippant wave of her hand, and James snorted at her attitude. 'Speaking of old gits, how was your day?'

He brought his glass of wine to his mouth, only to huff when he found it empty. Grabbing the bottle from the cluttered coffee table, he topped it back up, doing the same for Lily when she proffered her empty glass too.

'Infuriating for the most part,' he sighed. 'Albus makes a fantastic spinmeister and the majority of them ate up every word he said, but Alton Jurrock and Osmund Blunt actually did read it, and have been whispering in Cornelius Fudge's ear to raise an objection to it in the next session.'

Lily frowned. 'Cornelius Fudge?'

'Head of the W.A.S.'

'Why him? Why not do it themselves?'

He shook his head. 'He's expendable. If the motion still passes despite an objection, it looks like whoever objected doesn't really care about protecting the Statute, so they wouldn't dare do it personally. If Fudge objects, even based on something as simple as phrasing, they'll have to do a full review of the motion, and no matter what spin we put on it, they'll see it for what it is.'

'Ah,' Lily said, her face a picture of consternation. 'What can you do about it?'

'I'm not sure,' he admitted. 'I'm meeting with Albus on Tuesday, but I really don't know what he plans to do about Fudge. He's already trying to position himself for Minister once Bagnold's done, so he's a firm puppet for Jurrock. Honestly, Jurrock has his hand so far up Fudge's arse, I wouldn't be surprised if he could feel the back of the bloke's teeth.'

'James, that's disgusting!' Lily complained, though she still laughed despite herself.

'Maybe a little,' he conceded with a laugh, 'but that's the way it is.'

Their laughter quieted in an instant as the sound of Harry stirring slightly came through the Muggle baby monitor. He settled quickly, and they quickly went back to quietly chuckling, but not before James caught a slightly anxious expression flit across Lily's face.

'What's worrying you about Harry?' he asked gently and she sighed.

For a moment, she didn't respond and looked to be weighing up whether or not to brush him off, but eventually decided against it. 'It's not so much Harry, it's more me.' She caught his look of confusion and elaborated. 'I feel like a terrible mum,' she said with an air of complete defeat.

James' eyebrows hit his hairline with surprise and he argued incredulously, 'Lily, you're an amazing mum.'

She averted her gaze in a badly veiled display of disbelief. 'I just- I mean, take today. My almost three year old son was heartbroken because he could tell that his pet was in pain and dying. Instinctively, he knew that he could end Arty's suffering, but didn't want to say goodbye, and I convinced him to put him down.' Her head snapped up and she looked at him in despair, tears running down her cheeks. 'I convinced my _three year old_ to end a life, James. What kind of mother does that make me?'

He got up and moved to sit next to her, wrapping her up in his embrace. 'He's not just any old three year old, though is he? Death told us that nobody had ever accepted the burden as young as Harry has, so that makes you a singularly unique mother, and the same goes for me as his father.'

'What do we know about raising a boy who is essentially tantamount to a demigod?'

'Nothing. But Fate accepted his offer, and must have done so knowing that it wouldn't be problematic, so maybe that's the point. Maybe we're not supposed to know how to raise the Master of Death. Maybe we're not supposed to do that at all.'

'What?!' she exclaimed, looking up at him in panic and he instantly realised how what he'd said must have sounded.

'That's not what I mean,' he rushed to explain. 'I mean, we shouldn't raise the Master of Death and we should just raise _Harry_. Sure, there are going to be points where that becomes difficult, like when he has his episodes, but other than that we raise Harry the exact same way that we'll raise Thea. We raise him to be loving, and kind, and just, and when he's older he'll know we're there to support him and advise him as best we can.' He pulled Lily closer into his arms and kissed the crown of her head. 'We'll do our best, and raise him to do the same.'

'I could have lived to be a hundred and still never have been ready for this,' she mumbled into his chest.

He chuckled softly, his breath tickling the back of her neck. 'Me too, but he has his burden and so this is ours. I guess that's just the way it is.'

'You say these wonderful, wise things sometimes that make me really struggle to believe you're not an imposter who replaced James Potter in 1975,' she said lightly after a second.

'What can I say? You're a terrible influence on me.'

Her face was the very picture of affront as she tore herself from his arms and smacked him on the thigh. 'Excuse you, I'm the _best_ influence.'

He laughed and leaned forward to kiss her, but she yawned before he could. 'Bedtime, I think.'

She closed the distance between them and placed a kiss on his lips before yawning again. 'Definitely.'

* * *

 **A/N:** Hope you're enjoying the story so far! I've been asked a couple of times, so I will say that we are seeing Hermione soon, but Harry won't be meeting her yet.

If you notice any errors or inconsistencies in this or any other chapters please let me know!

Take care, _amidland_.


	8. The Way It Is II

_Saturday 12th September, 1987_

'I know, Thea, but you heard Padfoot say that we're going to be doing boy stuff all day. That's boring compared to you spending the day with Layla.'

Sirius smirked at Lily in the hallway as they listened to Harry placate his little sister masterfully. Truth be told, the 'boy stuff' he had planned for his day out with his godson was mostly there to distract from the main goal of the day. Exactly who needed the distraction wasn't clear to him just yet, but he hoped it'd serve its purpose for them both.

'Layla's coming round?' the little girl asked excitedly, all of her previous sulking leaving her in an instant.

'Even better,' Harry replied, 'you're going to Layla's.'

Immediately following that revelation came the sound of small feet running as fast as they could towards them, and Thea shot out of the living room and into the hallway. The tiny clone of Lily looked up at her mother with the kind of excitement only a toddler could muster. 'Mummy, Harry said we're going to Layla's.'

'Did he now?' she asked, and looked up to find Harry standing in the doorway to the living room wearing a smile that very clearly said _She's your problem now_. Really, the boy had managed to master an impressive amount of his father's mannerisms in just seven years, and not just the good ones. Lily shook her head fondly at her son and returned her attention to her daughter, who was practically bouncing in anticipation. 'Oh, I remember now. Auntie Alice called yesterday and asked if we'd like to go around and play with Layla's new tea set. What do you think?'

Thea nodded rapidly, sending her thin auburn hair flying, and span around. Quick as a flash she'd got to the end of the hallway was grabbing a mismatched pair of shoes from the shoe rack.

Sirius laughed. 'Don't you think you should change out of your pyjamas first, petal?' Her eyes widened and she dropped the shoes to the ground in an instant and started towards the stairs. 'I'm sure Daddy will help you pick out an outfit if you wake him up,' he called after her.

Beside him, Lily snorted. 'He won't forgive you for a week.'

'Probably two, but that serves him right for going out without me on a Friday night,' he replied with a grin. 'Right, come on then Pup. We've got a day full of boy stuff to be getting on with.'

Harry nodded and hugged Lily. 'See you later, Mummy.'

'See you later, baby. Be a good boy today, okay?'

'I will,' came the chorused response from both Sirius and Harry, and the boy looked up at his Uncle with a grin.

They left the Potter's house in Cambridge to the sound of Thea rousing James upstairs. ' _Wake up_ , Daddy!' she shouted imperiously, and Sirius barked out a laugh at the groan James gave in response as the closed door behind them.

'What are we doing first?' Harry asked as they got into Sirius' car.

He hummed. 'Well, it might sound terribly boring to you, but I happen to have been invited to watch Puddlemere's practice at eleven.'

'Puddlemere's practice? Like, Puddlemere United?' Harry asked faintly, and Sirius nodded at him through the reflection of the rear-view mirror. 'How could that be boring?!'

'I thought you might say that,' Sirius chuckled, 'but it does mean Flooing.'

Harry huffed as though offended that Sirius thought having to Floo would make any difference at all. 'So worth it.'

-oOo-

Really, the state of the magical British night-life was practically unforgivable. Over the last few years, he'd visited a number of clubs and bars in Europe and had been blown away at the number of options he had available for him to make a complete and utter fool of himself.

One such night in 1983 had led to Sirius' 'legendary weekend' which still had James and Remus looking at him wistfully every time he spoke of it. He had been given the Friday off from training for his Transfiguration Mastery and decided that he would enjoy the extended weekend in France. On Friday afternoon he had bought an international Portkey to Paris and checked into _La Conseil de la Nuit_ , one of the high-end hotels just off La Place Cachée - Paris' equivalent to Diagon Alley.

After leaving what little luggage he'd brought with him in his room, he set out for the street at the end of La Place, where he'd been told was the place to be on a Parisian Friday evening. The cobbled side-street was lit up by all manner of inviting, bright signages for the many bars and clubs that made up the frontages of La Rue Delage.

A young woman in front of him stumbled as her heel slipped on the cobbles and he smirked as she grabbed onto her companion to right herself, though as his gaze travelled up her notably long legs, the smirk gave way to a satisfied smile. It was around then that he'd realised that he was most definitely in the right place.

He had decided to start his evening in a small but lively looking bar at the top of La Rue called La Tite Goutte, wherein he'd bumped into another Englishman with a similar plan for the night. As it happened, Jacob Hathway was the newly named reserve Seeker for Puddlemere United who was in Paris to celebrate his placement on the team. While the pair got to know each other over a handful of drinks each, a couple of the local men had approached them and, despite the language barrier, decided to take it upon themselves to give them a tour of the street.

Sirius could only barely remember drinking copiously at the following two bars, before the rest of the night became prohibitively hazy in his memory. The next thing he could clearly remember was waking up in a hotel room with Jacob. A hotel room that wasn't his, mind, nor even in Paris, nor France. With absolutely no recollection between the two of them as to how, they'd managed to make their way to Switzerland, with more money in both of their coin pouches than either had started the night with.

With neither Sirius nor Jacob being the kind of men to inspect a gift Hippogriff's hooves, they resolved to freshen up and spend their Saturday night doing it all over again in Geneva's magical enclave. That night became the second night running of which he had no clear memory, but he figured that that was the mark of a night well spent.

All of this formed part of the long-winded explanation as to why Harry Potter was currently wearing the signed practice jersey of Puddlemere's now star Seeker Jacob Hathway.

Sirius shepherded the exhilarated seven year old to a booth in Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and had to practically force him to sit down. Using the practice of Harry's favourite Quidditch team had worked even better as a distraction than he had expected - it wasn't until they had parked up in central London that Sirius had even remembered why he'd brought his godson out for the day.

He sighed and shook himself for putting it off. He was a grown man concerned about having a conversation with a seven year old for Merlin's sake. 'Harry,' he started, before he found some other way to delay.

The boy in question almost instantly raised his head and looked at Sirius with an almost eerie level of focus. 'Yeah?'

'We need to have a grown up conversation, if that's alright?' he asked a bit hesitantly. Really, he was starting to hate the fact that he'd let Lily talk him into doing this himself. They were Harry's parents, surely she or James could have handled this?

Harry cocked his head slightly. 'Wouldn't that be better with Daddy?' he asked, somewhat echoing Sirius' thoughts at that exact moment.

He exhaled sharply through his nose and smiled. 'No, I think we can handle this on our own, don't you?'

The young lad looked a bit unsure but nodded a little shyly anyway and sat up straighter in his chair. One thing every adult in Harry's life quickly learned was that if you gave him even the slightest amount of responsibility he'd take it as seriously as possible. He was never bossy, mind you, but he had an unequalled determination to not let anyone down. It created a tough standard to live up to, to be honest, particularly because Sirius felt like he was about to let _him_ down.

'The thing is Pup-' he stumbled over his words a bit. 'What I mean to say is-' Again he halted and caught Harry's patient eyes in his own travelling gaze. He closed his eyes and scrubbed his hands over his face, sighing deeply. 'Me and Heidi aren't together anymore, so you won't be seeing her from now on.' His words spilled from him in a tumble, as though to escape him before he could put them off any longer.

Sirius found that he daren't re-open his eyes and look at his godson. _Gryffindor's biggest coward_ , he berated himself mentally. It wasn't so much that he was worried about his reaction to not seeing Heidi anymore; the boy liked her well enough, but she only really visited the Potters with Sirius a few times a year. The problem he found himself facing was that for all that Harry had inherited James' gentle cheek and charisma, he'd also inherited Lily's curiosity, and in this conversation Sirius had - for the first time - brought up the topic of _girls_.

Eventually, he plucked up the courage to open his eyes and found Harry staring at him curiously. 'Why?' the boy asked him almost as soon as he made eye contact.

Harry didn't sound upset or accusing, which was a big win. The rampant curiosity was mostly missing from his tone too, and instead there was practically pure confusion behind the question. Sirius raised his eyebrows, shocked. _I can't believe it's going to be this easy_. 'Well, if Heidi carried on coming round, it would just be awkward for-'

He stopped as Harry shook his head rapidly. 'No. Why aren't you together now?'

_Ah,_ Sirius cursed himself, _you had to go and say it would be easy, didn't you?_ Clearing his throat, he began as confidently as he could. 'See, this is something that you're not going to have to worry about until you're much older.' He smiled a little proudly at his deflection, but the pride quickly fell away at the sight of the unsatisfied frown that graced Harry's face. 'But I'll explain what I can now,' he added hastily, mollifying him.

His mind raced as he realised just what he'd managed to get himself into - how do you explain dating to a seven year old, even one as mature as Harry?

'See, your Mummy and Daddy have set a fantastic example for you, but that's not what it's like for many people. Your Mummy was the only person your Daddy ever loved, and even though he was a bit daft, she only ever loved him too.' He paused for a second and Harry nodded to show that he'd understood. He knew that the boy had been told about bits of his parents' schooling, but he wasn't sure quite how much.

'For most people,' he continued, 'the person that they'll love forever isn't the first person they'll ever love.' Harry scrunched up his brow in confusion, so he racked his brain to find a way to explain himself better. 'People love people in different ways, Harry. You love Mummy, right?'

'Uh-huh.'

'And you love Thea, too. But it feels different, doesn't it?' Maybe he was better at this than he'd given himself credit, Sirius thought as his godson nodded with understanding. 'When you get older, you find that you love other people, too - people who aren't family - and it's a bit like your favourite teddies. Who's your favourite teddy at the moment?'

'Corvus,' the boy answered without hesitation.

Sirius smiled - he'd bought that one. 'Right, but she wasn't always your favourite was she? It's called dating, and it's kind of like that. You have a person that you love the most at the moment, your favourite person, but over time you find someone that you like even more - like when you got Corvus - or maybe you just realise that this person isn't actually your favourite person anymore for another reason.'

'And that's why you and Heidi aren't… dating now?' Harry questioned and Sirius beamed.

'Exactly. We just aren't each other's favourite people anymore, and that's okay. That's just the way it is. Thank you, Mr. Fortescue,' he said as the parlour owner placed two irresponsibly sized ice-creams before them with a wink. 'Now, you're a young lad, so you won't have to worry about this for a long while, but eventually you'll go through the same and you might love many different witches before you find the one you want to love forever. Or wizards, for that matter, if that's who you like.' Harry screwed his nose up and Sirius snorted. 'Maybe not.'

'Definitely not,' Harry said stubbornly. 'I'm not going to date, Padfoot.'

'You might feel differently when you grow up, Pup.'

He shook his head stubbornly. 'I won't. I'm only going to love one girl - the Raven's daughter,' he declared matter-of-factly. 'I dream about her sometimes. I don't know what she looks like, but I know she's really pretty, and really clever.'

Sirius stared at him for a moment as he just continued to casually eat his ice-cream, as though he hadn't said anything out of the ordinary at all. 'And - I suppose these aren't normal dreams, are they?' Harry shook his head, spoon still in mouth. 'Right, of course they aren't. Well, your Mummy and Daddy were different too, so it's not that strange, I guess.'

His godson smiled at him innocently and carried on getting chocolate sauce all over his lips while Sirius' lunch sat forgotten in front of him. He wasn't entirely sure what had actually just happened, or how the conversation about his break-up with Heidi had managed to get to Harry's visions of his future wife, but he was definitely sure of one thing - he was never letting Lily Potter talk him into anything like this ever again.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry this chapter took a bit longer to come. I struggled to get the conversation between Harry and Sirius right, and truth be told, I'm still not entirely sure about it.

Either way, I've posted it now, so it's too late. This story continues to be unbeta'd, so do let me know if you notice any errors or inconsistencies in this, or any other chapters.

Thanks so much, _amidland_.


	9. The Home Visit

_Wednesday 7th December, 1988_

Every year, Christmas in the Potter household got just a little more manic. The seventh of December had, for six years now, marked the beginning of the most energetic, boisterous, exhausting, and entertaining period of the year for the family at number nineteen Thornbrook Avenue. The sixth had been both of Lily's parents' birthdays, and Christmas had never started until the following day when she was a child. As a teenager and young adult, it had been a family tradition that she'd continued to observe even when she was away from home, but since her parents had died, she used the tradition as an opportunity to remember them by.

This evening, Lily was trying to organise and supervise Harry and Thea as they put up Christmas decorations with reckless abandon. James, as had become annually expected, had tactically escaped the mayhem by going with Sirius to buy a tree, leaving her to manage their bundles of seemingly limitless energy by herself.

They'd been at it for about an hour at this point, and the living room was more closely resembling a warzone; there were garlands strewn about the furniture and unevenly taped to the mantelpiece, Christmas toys were haphazardly dotted around the room wherever space could be found, and Harry had managed to get himself tangled in a ten foot string of fairy lights.

Lily was trying to help him get free with one hand as he squirmed and wiggled while she held Merlin's head in her left hand from the Nativity set Remus had created for them a few years ago, but with prominent magical figures in place of the usual Christian ones. The scene showed the Hogwarts founders, minus Slytherin, offering gifts to Merlin and Morgana as they stood over the baby King Arthur. Really, it was as beautifully made as it was funny, so it was a shame to have seen Merlin lose his head, no matter how easy it would be to repair.

On the sofa, Thea was falling over herself as she giggled at her brother's situation, clutching a stuffed toy of Ulric the Gold-Horned Unicorn - the Wizarding version of Rudolph, apparently. Last year, James had created a mystery for the children, in which Ulric had lost his horn in a forest near Mould-on-the-Wold, and Harry and Thea had to follow the clues to help him find his horn in time for Christmas. The seriousness with which he led the kids to saving Christmas had turned Lily into a puddle of sentimental goo, which had turned out to be dangerous because they'd already agreed to having no more children, and that night she'd come very close to breaking her resolve.

Blessedly, the men finally returned home just as Lily was reaching her wit's end with her bound son. Sirius barked out a laugh as soon as he walked in and set eyes on the scene, setting Thea off into more uncontrollable giggles. James came in and laughed too, but set down the shrunken tree and helped to untie a very disgruntled Harry, who promptly abandoned his efforts to hang the lights as soon as he was free, preferring to focus on hanging the stockings on the mantelpiece.

Eventually Thea calmed down enough to help the men decorate the now-restored tree, while Lily sat back and made suggestions, enjoying the temporary reprieve. An eclectic mix of normal and magical Christmas songs filled the room from the charmed turntable, and Lily was filled with a contented warmth as Harry took his sister by the hand and spun her under his arm as they danced to songs she remembered from her childhood.

Once the tree was suitably - that is to say, suitably garishly - decorated, Sirius sat down on the floor to regale the children with his and James' adventure in bartering with a wood nymph who had apparently demanded they sing her a song in exchange for them taking a tree from her forest. They both paid rapt attention to his tale, being too young to remember him telling the exact same story three years prior.

James settled next to her on the sofa and offered her a mug of mulled wine as she shifted to lean into his side. 'He needs to come up with a new one soon,' he murmured quietly as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 'I think Harry will notice if he tells an old story again next year.'

She hummed in agreement as she snuggled further into his side. 'Definitely. We should probably tell him that tonight before he leaves. It'll take him a year just to come up with one and rehearse it.'

'You sell him short. He's been making shit up for his entire life, it's practically an art form at this point.'

'Because he's always been so talented with the arts,' she retorted sarcastically just as Sirius began to demonstrate the song they performed for the nymph. They both laughed lightly and Sirius looked up at them accusingly, making them laugh a bit harder to the confusion of the children. Maturely, he stuck his tongue out at the two of them, before returning his attention to the children.

'How was your day?' She asked once they'd stopped laughing.

'Not too bad. We're still trawling through the books to see how many laws could affect or be affected by the equal tax act, so it's mostly paperwork.' He took a sip of his drink but gestured that he had something else to say. 'Barclay popped by to ask me to ask you for a favour, actually.'

She screwed her face up, trying to place the name. 'M.U.S. Office Barclay?'

'Yeah. They've got a nine year old Muggle-born girl in Newbury whose parents have booked an appointment with some specialists because of her magic. It's a perfectly happy home but the girl is super bright, apparently, and it's distressing her that nobody knows what's going on, so Barclay's decided to step in now.'

'And he reckons I could relate to her, so he wants me to tag along?'

He nodded. 'Yeah, Saturday afternoon. He didn't say who you'd be going with, but it won't be him because he's been rammed at St. Dom's recently.'

St. Domnus's House for Young Sorcerers, or St. Dom's for short, was the Wizarding orphanage that had come about as a result of Alyssa's Law passing. It was privately and jointly owned by the Potters and the Longbottoms, but largely subsidised by the Ministry and overseen by the M.U.S. It had taken a few years and a lot of effort to get it up and running, but it had grown to be an amazing space for orphaned or rehomed magical children. Over the last year they'd been getting closer to out-growing their building, so had moved to an refurbished old manor house just outside of London with the help of dozens of volunteer house-elves.

'Alright, sure,' Lily agreed. 'I'll head over the Ministry tomorrow and badger him for details after I've dropped the kids off at school.'

-oOo-

Hermione Granger had been frustrated beyond measure. It was her steadfast belief that the answer to every question she could think to ask could be found in books, if only she looked hard enough for the right one. The problem she was having was that she'd searched through every non-fiction book in the Newbury library that could have been even slightly related to the strange things that had been happening around her. Once she'd exhausted that source with no luck, she'd begged her parents to take her to the Reading library, but after multiple trips there she'd still not found anything relevant.

After that, she'd convinced her parents to take her to Oxford so she could search the public library there too. The trend unfortunately continued though, and so after uncountable trips to various libraries and just as many trips to disbelieving and unhelpful doctors, her parents had gotten in touch with a specialist in children's behaviour in the hopes that they'd be able to shed some light on the matter.

The specialist was due to visit at one o'clock today and Hermione was on tenterhooks. She was excited at the chance to finally get some answers, but the very real possibility that this specialist wouldn't know - or worse, wouldn't believe them - was looming over her like a dark cloud. From the moment she'd woken up, she'd been so antsy that she'd barely been able to stay still, and had started to make her Mum dizzy with her constant getting up to look out of the window to see if they'd arrived yet.

After an hour of nervous fidgeting and pacing, Mum had finally given up and had all but dragged her out of the house and to the local library, which is where she sat now, struggling to concentrate on the book she'd picked up off the shelf: _The Many Legends of King Arthur_. It was a topic she'd been reading about for the last month and something that she found inexplicably fascinating, but today she'd read the same paragraph four times over because her mind kept wandering with her apprehension.

_Geoffrey of Monmouth was a University of Oxford educated cleric and magister (teacher), largely credited as the creator of_ Merlin _in the Arthurian tales, likely taking the tales of Nennius, an eighth-century monk and mystic who wrote tales of a wizard named Myrddin. For his chronicle 'The History of the Kings of Britain', he is considered to be one of the most influential people in regards to the evolution and popularity of the legend of King Arthur and the Knights of the Roundtable._

While she typically preferred reading non-fiction books due to the limitless wealth of knowledge they provided access to, Hermione had found herself gripped by the story behind the legend of King Arthur since she'd stumbled across it tangentially in a book she was reading last month about the Middle Ages in Britain. It was so interesting how the legends were continued for centuries, simply by word of mouth because the majority of people couldn't read, only to be suddenly deemed nonfactual towards the end of the seventeenth century. Beyond that, something about the stories just resonated with her in a completely unfamiliar way.

'Right, come on then sweetie. We'd best be going if we're going to get home and have lunch before our guest arrives.'

Hermione jumped as her Mum spoke to her and snapped her head up to look at her; she'd gotten lost in her thoughts _again_. She nodded and stood to place the book back on the shelf, but warred with herself before doing so. It looked to be a really interesting book if only she could actually concentrate on it. _Maybe I should take it out_ , she thought, and turned around to find her Mum looking at her with a fond smile.

'Go on, then,' Mum said teasingly, and she raced as fast as was acceptable in a library to the librarian's counter to check out the book. The librarian, Mrs Witz, knew her by name of course, and after some perfunctory small talk about the book, they made their way out to the car.

The drive home did nothing to quell her nerves. Mum tried to ask her about the book she was reading but she was so distracted that she barely even heard the questions. She ended up giving uncharacteristically short answers while staring out of the window to avoid the concerned glances being reflected in the rear-view mirror.

Though she tried to quell it, a question erupted out of her unbidden as they pulled into the driveway of their house. 'What if they don't know what's going on either?' she blurted in a small voice.

Her Mum pulled the handbrake and undid her seatbelt before turning around in the driver's seat to face her. 'I know you want answers, sweetpea, but we need to be ready to accept that there might not be any yet. If that's the case, then we thank them for their time and we go on as we always have. Maybe in the future, it'll turn up in the news, or the episodes will stop. It might just have to be a case of wait and see.'

Hermione sniffled and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She didn't think she could bear it if they had to resort to 'wait and see'. For years she'd been teased and picked on for being too clever, too into books, not pretty enough, and struggling to make friends. It was just a matter of time before she had an episode at school, and then everybody would think she was some sort of freak of nature. 'I just want to know what's going on,' she whispered.

'I know, darling. I know,' her mum cooed. 'If worse comes to worst, and nobody can explain, then we can try to figure it out ourselves. Then maybe, when you're older and we've done plenty of research, you can be the specialist that people call on, and can calm down an upset or scared little girl yourself, yeah?'

She wiped her face again and nodded shakily. 'Okay.'

Lunch today was her favourite: jam sandwiches. With dentists for parents, she didn't often get to eat jam because of the sugar content, but every now and then she got jam on toast or jam sandwiches as a treat or, like today, as a distraction. Dad had gone above and beyond with the shopping this week - not only had he bought her jam, but he'd bought her raspberry jam, which was by far and away the best jam there was.

The knock on the door finally came as she was helping her Dad tidy up the kitchen, and her Mum went to answer it.

'Good afternoon. Helen Granger, is it?' she heard a woman's voice ask after the door opened.

'That's it. Afternoon,' Mum replied.

'My name's Lily Potter, and my colleague here is Anne Webb. Do you mind if we come in?'

Dad dried his hands and ushered Hermione through to the living room as Mum led their guests into the house before bustling off to prepare some hot drinks. 'Richard Granger,' he introduced himself with an outstretched hand, and one of the prettiest ladies she had ever seen took it with a smile.

'Lily Potter,' she said pleasantly. 'And you must be Hermione?' she asked, and Hermione nodded shyly.

'Hello.'

Mrs Potter smiled kindly and offered her hand to shake. 'I have a son just a bit younger than you are. I imagine you're feeling really quite worried at the moment, but I promise that there's absolutely nothing to be anxious about. Today, I'd just like to take some time to talk to you, if you're okay with that?' Hermione nodded again, a bit more confidently. 'Excellent. We'll wait for Mum to come back shall we?'

Hermione took a seat on the sofa next to her Dad as he directed the ladies to the other. Mum came in and provided them with drinks before settling on her other side, taking one of Hermione's hands in hers and laying them on her lap.

The other lady, Miss Webb, spoke up for the first time. 'Before we begin, we should make it clear that there's a little more going on here than you're aware of. Me and Lily aren't from the clinic you reached out to, but we are here in their place. Once we found out about your circumstances, we reached out and organised to come and see you instead because we can provide answers that they wouldn't have been able to.'

Mrs Potter picked up where Miss Webb left off. 'What we're going to discuss today is going to sound quite unbelievable, but I promise that we're being completely truthful and will be able to provide proof of that fact. We only ask that you give us a chance to explain everything fully. Just over seventeen years ago, I was in the exact same position you are now Hermione, so I know exactly how strange this afternoon is going to feel for you.'

'Please,' Dad said, slightly confused, 'go ahead. We're all ears.'

Mrs Potter nodded. 'The easiest way to discuss this is to get the big unbelievable part out of the way first.' She paused and took a breath. 'Magic is absolutely real, and your daughter is a witch, as are Anne and I, which is why Hermione had been doing unexplainable things. Better yet, we can prove it, and answer _any_ questions you might have.'

Hermione's eyes went as wide as saucers and she shifted to the edge of her seat.

-oOo-

It was almost seven o'clock before Mrs Potter and Miss Webb left. The time had gotten away from them in the six hours they'd been telling stories of a hidden magical society, and a magical school, and a Ministry of Magic, and magical wands, and magical books! They departed with the agreement that they'd return in the new year to answer any more questions, and the opportunity to visit the magical district in London. Mrs Potter had also left her address so they could write to her in the meantime if they wanted to.

'Well,' her Dad started, 'I'm not sure what I was expecting from this afternoon but it certainly wasn't that.'

Hermione spun to face him, her expression imploring. 'You do believe them though, don't you, Dad? They were telling the truth,' she pleaded. 'I know it! It's like I could feel it!'

'I don't see how we couldn't believe them,' Mum replied, pulling her into a hug.

Dad chuckled. 'I think my mind stopped protesting when she turned the side table into a dog.'

She looked between them both hopefully with tears in her eyes. 'So I can go? To Hogwarts?'

'We've only ever wanted the best for you. Sounds to me like the best has become Hogwarts when you're old enough.'

'Oh, thank you!' she cried and glomped onto him. 'Thank you, thank you, thank you.'

He picked her up and rocked with her as she sobbed into his neck, and her Mum joined the embrace, sandwiching her between them. They stood there for a short while, and eventually Hermione calmed down.

'I think we ought to create a list of things we want to find out about - that way we know what to ask Mrs Potter when we see her next, and we'll know what books to look for when we visit this Diagon Alley,' her Mum suggested, and she nodded furiously before racing off to get some paper and a pen, completely ignoring the muttered, 'I didn't necessarily mean right this second,' as she left the room.

* * *

**A/N:** _Enter Hermione_. She and Harry aren't going to meet just yet, but I hope you enjoyed reading her introduction to the story.

Please do drop me a message if you notice any errors or inconsistencies in this chapter, or any before it for that matter.

Kind regards, _amidland_.


	10. The Midas Touch

_Sunday 30th July, 1989_

It was pointless even being here, Bertha Jorkins thought as the man sat next to her got called in by the Healer. He'd come in after her, for Merlin's sake! She silently debated whether or not she should just go home and not bother. Literally anything would be a better use of her Sunday afternoon than sitting in the St Mungo's waiting room on a horribly uncomfortable chair for hours on end.

On the other hand, she'd never hear the end of it from her sister if she didn't get seen, and frankly she'd had enough of Edith's constant nagging that she needed to go and get checked out. It had started about three months ago when the sisters were having their weekly tea and Edith was updating her with some of the gossip she'd heard at her job at Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, but Bertha swore blind that she hadn't heard any of the gossip she was supposedly being updated on.

They'd argued for a short while, because Edith was insistent that they'd spoken about it for an hour just last week, while Bertha was certain that this was the first that she'd heard of any of it. With her sister being far too stubborn to just admit she was wrong, they'd just moved on from the disagreement, and had a conversation about two weeks worth of gossip instead of one.

From then on, though, Edith had kept a closer eye on her and kept telling her that she was acting funny. She huffed mentally, anybody would act differently if they were being constantly scrutinised in the way that she was. Telling her sister that hadn't deterred her though; if anything, Edith had started watching her even more closely.

It had all come to a head last weekend, when Bertha had gone out to buy a magazine, but forgotten what she'd come looking for and went home empty handed. Then she did it again the following day. And the next day too. After the third time, Edith had tearily begged Bertha to get herself checked out because something was "obviously not right". Really, couldn't someone just be forgetful without a visit to the hospital?

Nonetheless, the waterworks her sister had put on had worn her down enough to agree to seeing a Healer, and so here she was: relentlessly fidgeting because her butt had gone numb about an hour ago.

'Must be something pretty serious if you're scowling like that over it,' spoke a voice on her left. So busy was she in her frustrated ruminations that she hadn't even realised someone had taken the vacant seat beside her. Looking around to face the man, she realised who he was just in time to catch herself before telling James bloody Potter to mind his own business.

'Oh, uh - ha - no, it's nothing really,' she stumbled, trying desperately to regain her wits.

'Didn't look like nothing to me. Bertha, isn't it? You were a couple of years ahead in Hogwarts if I remember correctly.' He spoke conversationally, like they were old acquaintances, and not practically strangers. This was crazy. The Potters were practically Wizarding royalty these days, and here was the King of that family making small talk with her. Next to him sat the boy himself, Harry Potter: the de facto Prince of magical Britain with the Queen sat on his other side.

The Potters' rise to fame was a story that practically every magical person and being in Britain knew about, and probably a fair number of people beyond the border too. It was spectacular in no small part in that it was completely accidental on their part. The events of Halloween 1981 had been the topic of hundreds of articles full of guesses and speculation surrounding the mysterious defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The Potters had remained resolutely silent on the matter, though, and no details beyond those that were uncovered immediately following the event were released for years.

That was until somebody within the Ministry leaked a report from the Obliviators' Office, which detailed a Muggle Auror investigation that had required Ministry intervention because it had been garnering too much attention. The investigation detailed reports from Godric's Hollow, where a number of Muggles had heard a series of loud thunder-like sounds, bangs, cries, and had claimed to have seen several flashes of green accompanied finally by one loud cracking sound before everything went silent. The Muggles had no idea what had happened, and couldn't find any signs of a struggle but for some charred rubble that had rained down onto the street following that final crack.

The leaked report had been printed as the first Extra edition of the Daily Prophet since Dumbledore's defeat of Grindelwald in 1945, and the public went absolutely crazy over it, lauding the Potters as the second, third, and fourth comings of Merlin and Morgana. The Obliviators having been involved finally gave the Wizengamot the chance to call the Potters for a public inquiry into the events of that night, and with the public interest, they'd had no choice but to agree.

Their testimony in that inquiry, along with that of Sirius Black's, would go on to become legend almost instantly, despite the fact that everybody knew they were still leaving out more details than they were sharing. The revelation that all three Potters had survived the Killing Curse had done enough to distract everybody from asking many further questions, though. The Minister had immediately announced that all three would receive Order of Merlins for their heroics, making Harry Potter the youngest recipient ever to receive the award.

Since then, they'd become one of the most well known and respected families in the country, a reality that James Potter had capitalised on by championing equal rights for all magical people in Britain. His opinions on British society had led to a number of reforms across the board, and had cemented him as one of the most influential people of the century. Now he was looking at her with a bemused smile on his face, and she shook her head, mortified that she'd let her thoughts run away with her. Merlin only knew how long he'd been sitting there waiting for a response.

'Bertha, yes!' She squeaked, and cleared her throat as she felt a mortified flush make itself known. 'Bertha Jorkins. Graduated in seventy-four. What are you here for? Nothing bad I hope?'

He shook his head and leaned to bump shoulders with Harry. 'Nah, this one's got his last set of WANDs.'

She grimaced. No wonder the poor boy looked so miserable, bless him. The WANDs, or Wretched Antidotes for Nasty Diseases, were a set of potions that children had to take at the ages of three, six, and nine. They were precautionary measures for the most common illnesses, such as spattergroit, mumblemumps, and ague, amongst others.

Problem was, the potions were some of the most disgusting concoctions known to wizardkind, and that was saying something. Worse still, the mixture of the different potions caused horrible dizziness for an hour or more, and pins and needles in the toes and fingers on the right side of the body which could last for up to four hours. Every wizard-raised child was glad to be rid of them after their ninth birthday. So unpleasant were they that even the staunchest of pure-bloods felt sorry for the Muggle-borns when they had to take them at the start of the year for the first three years of Hogwarts.

'At least it's his last set,' James continued cheerily. 'I hope you're not too unwell? I can't imagine there's much danger for you to get tangled up with in the DMG.' She started at that. Not only did James Potter remember her from Hogwarts, he also knew where she worked. He smirked at her knowingly. 'I passed through the office on Thursday and saw you sat at your desk,' he explained.

'Oh, I see,' she said. 'It's nothing serious. In fact, I don't think it's anything at all, but my sister practically forced me to come and get checked out. I've been a bit forgetful over the last couple of months, and she reckons I've been acting odd. It's all nonsense, of course, but I thought I'd get a Healer to write that down for me. Maybe that'll shut her up.'

'Ah, well that's not too bad then. Excuse me a second,' he said, and turned to Harry who was pulling on his sleeve. The young lad motioned him closer and they had a whispered conversation for a moment before James turned to look at her with a look of intrigue. He turned back and murmured something to Lily, then he and Harry stood. 'Bertha, I wonder if you'd come with us for a second?'

Wait, what? She nodded dumbly and stood up, following James as he led them to an empty examination room just a little way down the corridor off to the left of the waiting area. He drew his wand and locked the door behind them, then turned to face her with an awkward smile.

'Please, sit down,' he said, gesturing to the cot in the middle of the room as moved to sit in one of the seats beside it. Not knowing what else to do, she complied and looked between him and Harry, her confusion blatantly shown on her face. 'There are quite a few things that the public doesn't know about our family,' he began, 'and that's very deliberate. Some things are much better if they're only known by as few people as possible.'

He paused and stared at her appraisingly, and she nodded to show that she understood for lack of any idea as to what she could say.

'You've been memory charmed, Bertha, and getting it removed by a Healer could leave you with permanent brain damage. Alternatively, we can help you, but I have a condition.' She shot him a suspicious glance. 'Are you familiar with personally binding vows?'

Her eyebrows shot up at that question. Whatever condition she was expecting, it definitely wasn't that. She was, of course, familiar with personally binding vows - she'd be surprised if there was a magically-raised person who wasn't familiar with them. Breaking a magically binding vow could result in the loss of a person's magic, and despite what their name suggested, unbreakable vows were breakable, just the consequence of such was the breaker's death, so you really didn't want to break it.

A personally binding vow, however, was actually unbreakable. They were typically used in old pure-blood families for familial secrets, and basically involved the person making the vow sealing a piece of knowledge with another person. Unless that other person let them reveal the sealed knowledge, they literally couldn't. It couldn't be taken from them, it couldn't be spoken about, nothing. She bit her lower lip in thought. If she had actually been memory charmed like he said, and she had no reason to disbelieve him, then this was her best chance at making any sort of recovery. 'What do you want to seal?' she asked, after a long moment of silent consideration.

'The knowledge of everything that happened between you entering and leaving this room today.' Taking a deep breath, she nodded and drew her wand, holding it hand over hand, tip pointing upwards. Just as she went to make the vow, though, he interrupted. 'Bound to Harry.'

She looked at him incredulously, but he levelled her with an even and serious gaze. She gulped and nodded again. 'I, Bertha Jorkins, do seal the knowledge of all events between my entering and my leaving this room on this day, to you, Harry Potter. So I swear.'

'So mote it be,' Harry responded evenly, and then shivered at the same time she did as the vow settled on them both. Her gaze landed on a smiling James, who just shrugged at her.

'Don't look at me, this is all his doing,' he said lightly, gesturing towards his son. His son who was now staring at her with pure black eyes. She shifted back in her seat reflexively. 'He won't hurt you, I promise. He'll just lift the charm.'

Harry smiled at her in what was probably supposed to be a reassuring way, but it was completely undermined by his void-like eyes, and she gulped. 'Lie down on the bed please,' he said not unkindly, though the fact that it sounded like he was both whispering and speaking aloud at the same time really made his tone redundant. At James nod, she did as the boy asked and he stepped up to her side. 'You can close your eyes if you want, but you don't have to.'

She did, and within moments two small hands were placed over her temples. The hands grew warm, and the sides of her face beneath them quickly followed. The darkness of the back of the eyelids gave way to a beautiful pure golden colour, and she felt herself relax completely in the embrace of whatever strange magic Harry was performing. After a moment, she felt something in the back of her mind, just a small fleeting moment of awareness like something had been brushed past, but soon the sensation returned and felt increasingly like something inside her mind was being tickled. It was the most bizarre thing she'd ever experienced, and more than a little uncomfortable as the feeling grew and grew to a fever pitch before something snapped within.

She gasped and her eyes flew open as the warmth on her face quickly receded and Harry stepped back. One single memory from just before that weekly meeting for tea where Edith had in fact told her all of the apothecary gossip. One single, hidden memory of dropping some files off to her boss's house because they needed to be filed the following day. Just one locked away memory, suddenly remembered, of Barty Crouch Jr., clearly alive and clearly imperiused in his father's house, and Barty Crouch Sr.'s look of panic which was quickly swept away by an expression of grim determination.

'I need to go!' she exclaimed, looking wide-eyed at James. 'Do you think Amelia Bones will be in her office?'

He stared at her for a moment, shocked at her sudden abruptness, but quickly shook himself and nodded. 'I should think so. I don't think she's taken a weekend off since she became Director.'

Bertha practically leapt off of the cot to her feet and grabbed Harry by the shoulders. His eyes had returned to their normal, brilliant green. 'Thank you,' she rasped, quickly headed to the door before he could respond as James unlocked it. She opened the door and practically ran off without so much as a backwards glance, straight past the Healer calling her name in the waiting area and out towards the Floos in the main lobby, her entire focus on getting to the Ministry and speaking to the new Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

-oOo-

The WAND potions were absolutely the worst thing that existed on Earth, and that was just a fact. At this point Harry thought that he'd prefer to have actually gone through both spattergroit and mumblemumps rather than be lying back on this cot in St. Mungo's feeling horribly sick as the room spun at pace around him. Add to that the compulsive urge to wiggle the toes on his right foot, and the need to keep flexing and right hand to assure himself that his fingers were still there. This was even worse than he remembered it being three years ago. He was sure that he'd never been so uncomfortable in his short life, which was saying something because he'd _actually died_ as a toddler.

A sudden shiver ran over his body, and he became aware of the by now familiar sensation of needing to do something. What that something was exactly, he wasn't sure, but he'd find out soon enough. His vision darkened slightly as the room stopped spinning and regular feeling returned to his extremities. He cocked his head and squinted as he searched for whatever it was that he was supposed to be noticing.

Over the years, he'd gotten quite good at this, despite not really knowing what _this_ was. Last year he had tried to explain it to his Mum. It always started the same way: a strange kind of magic would wash over his body, soon followed by the uncanny intuition that he was needed. Normal vision would fade as though somebody had turned the lights right down, but not completely off, and unseen connections between people would become suddenly visible. They were like thin threads of any given colour, tying people together.

They weren't typical connections, though - Mum and Dad didn't have one between them showing their marriage, and there wasn't a new one connected to him signifying the vow Bertha had made earlier. When he described them to Mum, she suggested that they connected people who were fundamental to each other in some way, kind of like they were fated for one reason or another. That explanation sounded about right to Harry, and he was further convinced earlier when leading Bertha through the corridor and they had passed a Healer who had almost a dozen threads connecting him with different people, some within the waiting room and some not.

At the moment, there were two threads tied to Harry himself. One had always been there, pure white and familiar despite his not knowing who it tied him to. He'd always had the sense that he didn't need to know who it connected him to - not yet, anyway - so he'd never sought it out. The other had appeared after his first dream about the girl, the Raven's daughter. That thread had started out as glittering silver colour, but over the last couple of years had slowly started changing to a beautiful gold. It hadn't completely changed colour yet, and he figured it wouldn't until he met her, which was probably a little while away still.

Experience told him that there was a new connection coming now, though, and it was just a matter of letting it find him. He didn't have to wait long.

A wispy, crimson thread slowly snaked its way through the ajar door and started in his direction. Harry sat patiently as it reached out towards him and gently touched his chest. A veritable flood of information made itself known to him, and he took a deep, shuddering breath as he worked his way through it. There was a woman in the hospital who was dying, and there was nothing the Healers could do for her. The illness wasn't a magical one, which was uncommon as most Muggle illnesses didn't affect witches and wizards. She'd contracted it from caring for her parents, which meant she was probably Muggle-born, and it had taken its hold on her. The woman had more to do though - it wasn't her time yet - which was why he needed to help her.

'Harry? Everything okay?' Mum asked.

He nodded, before turning to her so she'd see his eyes. 'Have you got my glasses on you?'

She rifled through her handbag and produced a pair of sunglasses for him. It was an elegant, if not a bit bizarre, solution to making sure that people didn't see his eyes. The last thing they wanted was more rumours and speculation in the papers about the family, particularly him. 'What's going on?' she asked as he put them on. They also provided the unintended effect of darkening his vision further, which made it easier to follow threads, which was handy.

'I need to go upstairs before we leave. There's someone in the hospital who needs help.'

'I imagine there's more than one,' his Dad interjected, chuckling at his own joke, though he stopped soon enough as both Harry and his Mum shot him twin reproachful glares. He was saved from any further reprimand by the Healer coming back into the room, accompanied by a floating quill and healer's pad.

'Well those are some fancy glasses there, Harry,' she chirped as she came to his side.

'They block out light,' he explained. 'Valerian gives me a headache, always has, so I put these on to help.'

She waved her wand over him as he spoke, silently casting a diagnostic charm, and the quill started scribbling away the results. 'Ah, yes. My cousin had a similar reaction to peppermint when she was younger. We usually grow out of things like that in our teens, though, you'll be glad to know.' The quill stopped writing and she gave a quick glance over the results before looking back at him. 'Well everything looks practically perfect here. How are you feeling?'

He wiggled his fingers at her demonstratively and smiled. 'Fine, actually. Last time my fingers were tingling for hours but they feel like they're back to normal already this time.'

'Excellent! In that case, if I can just ask Mum or Dad to sign at the bottom of here for me, then you're free to go,' the Healer responded cheerfully, plucking the quill and pad out of the air and passing them over to Mum, who dutifully signed her name. 'Fantastic. Have a good day, folks!'

'I wish I had even half of her positivity,' Dad mumbled as she left.

Harry snorted and swung himself off the cot, pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose. 'Follow me,' he said, leading his parents out of the room and further into the hospital.

Five minutes later the thread had traced back to a private room on the third floor, a bit of a distance away from any other wards. Looking around, there were no Healers to be seen, so he let himself into the room.

On the cot in the middle of the room lay a fairly young woman, maybe about the age of Mum and Dad. She was slight, and quite short, and would have been really quite pretty if not for the slightly damp hair, pale complexion, and spots of blood around her mouth and on her gown. The lack of reaction to them entering the room gave away that she was asleep, or at the very least unconscious. Harry took off his glasses and approached her as James shut and locked the door behind them.

'Hello.' He didn't know whether she could hear him or not, but he thought that if she could, it might be nice for her to at least hear what's going on. 'I'm Harry Potter,' he said softly. 'I know you're really ill, but that's okay. I'm here to help you. You're going to be just fine.'

The crimson thread joining them split in two before it connected to her, indicating where she needed healing - her lungs. Stepping up to her side, he gently placed his hands on her chest and took a deep breath, concentrating on identifying the issue. A golden glow spread from beneath his palms over her chest, and he felt it probing within her. It became clear to him after a moment - her lungs were almost half full of fluid. The poor lady was essentially slowly drowning.

'Dad, can you help me roll this lady onto her side? Mum, can you conjure a bucket? Sorry, but I think this is going to be a bit disgusting.' Immediately his parents did as they were asked, positioning the patient onto her side at the edge of the bed, with a bucket right below and next to her head.

Harry screwed his eyes shut and focused first on clearing her lungs. It wouldn't solve the problem, but he figured that she'd be a lot more comfortable if he did that immediately. Slowly, he felt the fluid clearing from her lungs and coming up through her airway and to her mouth. He reached out and opened her mouth for her, and Dad held either side of her head, positioning it. It really wasn't pleasant, but he imagined that it was even worse for her, so he ignored it and guided the fluid out as best he could.

It seemed to take forever but eventually it had all cleared out. He nodded to his parents, and Dad carefully put her head back on the pillow while Mum vanished the bucket and its contents. Returning his hands to her chest, he concentrated now on fixing the damage done to her lungs, and it was extensive. The golden light grew brighter than it ever had before. It took a few minutes of intense focus before the damage was healed, and by the time the damage was fixed and he started to withdraw from her, Harry was breathing heavily and his hands were shaking.

He stepped backwards and dropped heavily into the chair beside the cot as the thread connecting them turned blue before fading away and his vision slowly returned to normal. His parents rolled the woman back onto her back and fixed her covers.

Mum turned and crouched next to him, looking over him with concern. 'Are you okay?'

'Yeah, I'm just a bit shaky. I'll be okay in a minute,' he tried to reassure her, but she didn't really look convinced.

She was soon distracted, though, by Dad bursting out into laughter behind her. They both turned their attention to him and he held up a hand as he calmed. 'Do you recognise this woman, Lily?' Mum stared down at her for a moment with a look of concentration, before looking back at Dad and shaking her head in confusion. 'I didn't either because she was so pale,' he continued. 'What if I said the words _my uncle smells like wet dog too_?'

Mum looked down at the woman with a look of realisation and grinned at Dad, who started laughing again.

'What's going on?' Harry asked, slightly frustrated that he was clearly missing something.

Dad looked as though he were going to respond, but glanced down at the lady and started laughing again. Mum walked back over to him and patted him on the shoulder. 'Your father has been wanting to thank this lady for _years_ ,' she said, as though that explained anything at all. He huffed as he realised he probably wasn't going to be let in on the joke. Rolling his eyes, he got up from the chair and made his way to the door.

'Let's go home,' he instructed bossily. 'I'm tired.'

* * *

**A/N:** I've been looking forward to posting this chapter for weeks. It's the first time we actually get to see anything from Harry's perspective (other than him as a baby), and it also marks the start of things starting to get shaken up outside of James' activism.

I'd like to preempt a question that could be raised by a detail in this chapter, and that is: If personally binding vows are a thing that exist, why didn't the Potters have Peter make one so he physically couldn't share the secret without their permission? The answer is simple, really, and it falls down to the same mistake they made in making him the secret keeper - they thought he was their friend and trusted him not to betray them, so the thought wouldn't have even occurred to them as necessary.

A quick thank you to _Crazy_ and _Dragonfly_ from the HMS Harmony discord server for their help in naming the WANDs.

As ever, there may be mistakes or inconsistencies in this chapter because I'm an imperfect editor. Please do let me know if you spot anything.

Thank you so much for reading, and for the kind reviews and messages you've been giving for the last ten chapters. It really does mean a lot.

Peace and love, _amidland_.


	11. The Broken Limb

_Tuesday 12th August, 1982_

'Remind me again why London is out of the question?' Sirius asked Lily for the fourth time that evening. 'You could find somewhere near me in Highbury, then I'd be round the corner should you need me.'

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, desperately trying not to lose her temper with him. Sirius only wanted to look out for them, she reminded herself, and he wasn't trying to be petulant or argumentative. He was being trying though.

'Let's start with the most important thing,' James thankfully interceded before she snapped. 'No child of mine is going to grow up anywhere near the Gooners.'

Lily dropped her head in her hands. The sensible, rational point she'd been hoping her husband would make was instead tossed aside in favour of restarting an oft-repeated argument about football. Once every week or two, she'd seriously regret ever introducing the men to the sport. Their enthusiasm for the sport in general wasn't the issue at all - growing up, her father had been an _avid_ Aston Villa fan, so she was used to the over-enthusiasm.

No, the issue was that the two brothers in all but blood had managed to fall for rival teams: Sirius supported Arsenal, while James backed Tottenham. The North London rivalry was as bitter as it was well-known, and apparently wizards were just as susceptible to the fanatical arguments it caused as the wider population were.

After five minutes of listening to them both regale the other with the successes of their own team and the failures of the other, she'd finally had enough. 'Pack it in,' she snapped, 'both of you.' Immediately they both quieted and apologised to her sheepishly. 'I don't want Harry to grow up in London. The chance is far too high that a wizard would end up finding us, plus any accidental magic would be far too easily noticed given the amount of people. The only way we'd solve that is living in a lower-density and nicer neighbourhood of the city, and if he went to a school there, there's a pretty high chance that he'd end up supporting Fulham or Chelsea, and then I'd never hear the end of the bloody football arguments.'

James and Sirius both recoiled at that thought, their differences set aside in their mutual disgust at the mere thought of Harry supporting Chelsea.

'Every family and their pet crup lives in the West Country, so it'd be a safe bet to avoid going down there,' James said, making a sensible argument finally, thank God.

Sirius still screwed his nose up, though. 'What's wrong with Terra Cottage? Now, don't glare at me like I named the bloody place, Lils, that was all Flea,' he argued when she shot a look in his direction. Terra Cottage was the stupid pun of a name for the secluded log cabin they were currently taking refuge in. Calling it a cottage was optimistic at best - it had four small rooms, no electricity, and was barely water-tight.

'All I'm saying,' Sirius continued, 'is that nobody knows you're here. This is probably one of the safest places in the country for you right now. All it really needs is doing up a little, really.'

She shook her head and took a deep breath. 'And that would be fine for you, Sirius, but there are three of us. We need to go out and get jobs eventually, too. Don't get me wrong, the vault's nowhere near empty yet, but we can't live off of that forever.' Finally he seemed to accept that point, however grudgingly, and she continued. 'I was thinking about Cambridge. There isn't a very large established magical community there or anywhere near. It's small enough to be overlooked but still large enough to not stand out, and it'd be a good place for Harry to grow up and go to school.'

'And by "thinking about Cambridge", you mean that you've already decided, right?' James asked with a smirk.

'I might have seen a house,' she hedged, and sighed when they both gave her an amused look. 'It's not too expensive and it's in a nice village just outside of the city. Plus, there's a good primary school nearby and a park and the end of the street.'

The men exchanged badly-hidden smirks before James nodded. 'Cambridge it is, then.'

A comfortable silence settled on them for a moment as they all privately considered the future. Well, comfortable for two of them - Sirius broke it after a very short while. 'You mentioned both getting jobs. Anything in particular, or...?'

She shrugged. 'Nothing concrete. I'm only maybe a couple of weeks away from finishing my Charms Mastery and I'm sure Filius would be happy to work around me looking after Harry, so I'll probably do that. For a while I really considered the Department of Mysteries, but it's too much of a time commitment at this point, I think.'

'They'd probably jump at the chance of having you, even if just as a consultant. I'm sure that your name was well known in those circles even before what's-his-face croaked it.'

'I've been considering private research and development, to be honest. That would give me the most freedom with Harry, too.'

'Here's something I've been wondering,' James piped up seriously. 'When we were... you know - dead - Death mentioned that Voldemort would have come back and caused even worse trouble, right?' Lily nodded. 'Merlin knows that Britain isn't the most progressive of magical societies, but how could they let all of this happen again, never mind let it happen _worse_?'

None of them, James included, had the answers to his question.

'Something needs to change, dramatically and with haste,' he said solemnly.

Lily snorted sardonically. 'Wizarding Britain needs a bloody revolution.'

'Vive la France!' Sirius exclaimed, only to be met with incredulous looks from both Potters. 'Les Miserables? No?' he offered, and frowned when their expression turned even more disbelieving. 'What?' he insisted huffily. 'I read. Occasionally.'

-oOo-

_Wednesday 16th August, 1989_

The park at the end of Thornbrook Avenue wasn't as big as some of the other parks that his parents or Sirius had taken him and his sister to, but Harry quite liked it that way. Their neighbourhood was a relatively small one, and there weren't all that many children living there. Almost all of his school friends lived nearer to the centre of the city while their village of Eppington was just on the outskirts.

All of this, of course, meant that he and Thea had free reign over the playground and the green areas pretty much whenever they wanted. Mrs Levisham had brought them over today - she was a kind old lady who sometimes babysat for them both when Mum and Dad had needed to attend functions or parties or galas, or when they'd gone away for a weekend for their anniversary and Auntie Alice and Uncle Frank couldn't host them as they usually would.

She'd offered to accompany them both today, and Dad had eagerly accepted on their behalf. In fact, Dad's eagerness had surprised Harry a little; he and Thea certainly weren't very likely to turn down a trip to the park, so it didn't really make sense as to why Dad had been so quick to speak for them. Harry had asked him about it later that day, but didn't really get an answer he was. Dad had said that he and Mum had some long overdue business to attend to which they couldn't do with the children in the house. Of course, Harry didn't believe him for a moment, but judging by the look on Mum's face, he'd resolved to let the matter go.

'Tag!' He was broken from his thoughts as an auburn haired bullet streaked across his vision, lightly hitting his arm as she passed. _Oh, it's on_ , he thought as he set off after her.

For a girl of almost six years old, Thea Potter was impressively quick. By no means could she outrun Harry, but he also didn't have to try very hard to make it look like chasing her was a challenge. As she quickly turned and ducked under the slide, he absently noted that she'd probably make a wicked chaser one day.

Leaping over the swings as she ran around them, he nearly caught her, but she just managed to avoid his reach and then dashed off as he recovered his balance. They squared off on either side of the seesaw, staring each other down, trying to anticipate in which direction the other would run. Thea giggled as she feinted left and Harry jerked to follow, only to have to double back as she shot right and sprinted around the carousel. He jumped onto it and let the momentum carry him around, springing off of it at a run once he'd got the right angle.

The siblings reached a stalemate again on either side of the slide, each attempting to fake the other out. Harry slowly started to creep around, and they both circled it while a plan came to his mind. As soon as he got a clear shot, he dived under the slide and reached out to her. 'Tag!' he exclaimed and Thea squealed and jumped out of the way.

'You missed!' she said joyously, and laughed as she ran away once more. Frustrated, he picked himself up off the ground and made after her. By the time he'd reached her again, she'd clambered onto the climbing frame and was being careful to remain out of his reach. ' _I'm the Queen of the castle, and you're a dirty rascal_ ,' she sing-songed at him teasingly.

He smirked at her and jumped, stretching as much as he could in an attempt to reach her. Thea's giggles turned to a squeal as she jumped over his swiping arm, before turning around and grabbing onto the fireman's pole behind her to slide down and make her escape. Harry darted around the structure, intent on reaching her before she got the chance to make a run for it again.

Before he got around there though, he heard his sister give out a yelp of pain and all thoughts of chase promptly left his mind. Kneeling on the floor by the fireman's pole, Thea was clutching her wrist to her chest, sniffling as she obviously tried to hold back tears.

'Hey, what's wrong?' Harry asked as he dropped to his knees beside her.

She sniffed as she looked up at him. 'I fell over and now my arm hurts.'

Harry frowned. 'Can I look?' he asked, and at her nod gently reached out and held her arm in his hands. Her wrist was all red and puffy where it met her hand. Thea's breath hitched as he gently ran his hand underneath where she'd hurt it and he winced sympathetically. 'Sorry.'

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, mentally picturing Thea's arm and concentrating on the injury, willing it to heal. When nothing felt different, he cracked open one eye and saw no golden light either, only Thea's wet eyes looking at him expectantly. Frowning, he screwed his eyes shut harder and focused on his breathing for a full minute before opening his eyes again desperately. Tears were actually running down her cheeks now, and her sniffles had become more apparent.

'It won't work,' he said hollowly, and Thea's eyes grew wide with panic. 'I can't heal it. Why won't it work?' The question, no matter how emotional, was bound to be rhetorical. Neither of the young Potters could even begin to provide the answer.

Mrs Levisham's voice snapped him back to focus. 'Is everything okay?' she asked as she walked towards them. 'Oh dear,' she said softly, 'what happened here, then?'

'Thea fell over and hurt her arm, Mrs Levisham, and now it's gone puffy,' Harry answered, taking charge of the situation as any good big brother should. 'I think Mum and Dad will need to take her to hospital,' he added as an afterthought. Obviously he knew that it wouldn't take much for a witch or wizard to heal her arm, but most people would need to see a doctor for it.

His astute reasoning fell to pieces as their babysitter of several years produced a wand from her sleeve. 'I don't think that'll be necessary, Harry. You can't see anybody else around here, do you?' she asked as she checked their surroundings. Getting over his surprise, he looked around and upon seeing nobody in the area shook his head. 'Now, I'm afraid that I can't fix your wrist, Thea, but how about we make it so it doesn't hurt as much?' Thea nodded weakly as she sniffled. ' _Lenio_ ,' Mrs Levisham cast, and immediately the relief was visible on his sister's face. 'Let's get you back home to Mum and Dad, then. They'll have you right as rain in no time.'

The old lady gently helped Thea to her feet, being mindful of her arm, and handed over a hanky so she could dry her eyes and wipe her nose. It wasn't a long walk back home - a few minutes at most, really - but Harry used the time with full efficiency. 'I didn't know you were a witch,' he said, almost accusingly.

Mrs Levisham smiled at him good-naturedly. 'Not many people do,' she confided. 'That was the idea.'

He didn't really understand that, but pressed on with his questioning regardless. 'Did you go to Hogwarts?'

'Ooh, a good many years ago. Hufflepuff, to answer your next question.'

'Was Mr Levisham a wizard, too?' he asked cautiously. Mrs Levisham rarely spoke about her husband, who she had told him had died in the war. Since learning about it in school, he'd always understood her to mean the Second World War, but now that he knew she was a witch, he had to wonder if Mr Levisham had actually been involved in the last Wizarding War.

Mrs Levisham had the oddest expression on her face as she answered - it was a mixture of both happy and sad. 'We were the Head Boy and Girl together all the way back in 1923 - he was a Hufflepuff too.'

Before he knew it, they had reached the front door of the Potters' house. 'I bet he was fantastic,' Harry said quietly before he knocked on the door.

'The best,' came her reply.

The front door was opened by Dad looking really quite messy. He wore a silly grin below his wonky glasses and messier than usual hair and his t-shirt was unusually crumpled. His expression soon changed when he noticed Thea's red face and the way she was nursing her arm. 'What happened?' he asked concernedly as he ushered all three of them into the house.

'Thea fell over on the playground and has broken her wrist by the looks of it,' Mrs Levisham explained. 'I cast a numbing charm on her so it wouldn't hurt as much, but I didn't want to risk healing her myself.'

Dad looked at Mrs Levisham strangely as they moved into the living room. He lifted Thea onto the sofa and inspected her puffy wrist carefully. 'I didn't know you were a witch, Ruth,' he muttered, unknowingly echoing Harry from just a few minutes ago. 'I thought the Levisham line was absorbed by the Dunbars centuries ago.'

'It was. My husband was a Dunbar, and I changed my name to Levisham when I left the Wizarding world behind in the war. It's been about fifteen years since I last visited Diagon Alley.'

'I must admit I was tempted to do the same after we graduated,' Mum spoke from where she'd appeared in the doorway. 'How bad is it?'

Dad shook his head in a so-so manner. 'Not St Mungo's bad, but I wouldn't want to do it myself. Maybe call the Tonks and see if Andi's free to pop in?' Mum nodded and disappeared into the kitchen where the phone was. 'We'll get you all better in no time, fawn,' Dad said to Thea before turning around to face Mrs Levisham. 'You moved in not long after we did, didn't you?'

The elderly witch nodded. 'A good thing too. There was more than one occasion that a reporter from the Prophet managed to find their way around here in the first year or two.' She smirked as Dad looked at her curiously. 'I usually _confunded_ them and let them get lost until they gave up.'

Dad laughed at that. 'Well then, thank you for all of your help.'

'It was my pleasure,' Mrs Levisham replied, with a mischievous smile that Padfoot would have been proud of.

'Andi will be here in a few minutes,' Mum said as she re-entered the room. She approached the old lady and embraced her. 'Thank you for looking after her, Ruth.'

'Well, that's my job when you two have important business to attend to,' she said cheekily, the smile still on her face. Judging by the way that Mum and Dad blushed at that, Harry decided that he definitely didn't need to know the truth of whatever work they were doing. A quiet crack of apparition from the back garden snapped them all out of the awkward silence that had fallen over the room after Mrs Levisham's comment. 'I'll be off then,' she announced, and added to Thea, 'I hope you feel better soon, dear.'

'Thank you, Mrs Levisham,' his sister said, and Harry echoed her as their babysitter left, passing Mrs Tonks as she entered the room.

'She'll be back to normal in a jiff,' Mrs Tonks said cheerily. 'What are you like, hey, Thea?'

-oOo-

Andromeda Tonks had been a Healer at St. Mungos since she'd left Hogwarts, if James remembered correctly, but after being injured in an attack on the hospital within the first couple of years of the war, she'd taken a step down and become a reserve Healer as she recovered. After having Dora in 1974, she never did return to the hospital full-time.

Over the years since, she'd visited the Potters' house a number of times - usually to provide healing, and had always been a blessing, today included. Ruth's numbing charm had done wonders to keep his daughter calm, and had lasted until after the fracture to her wrist had been healed. Andromeda had given Thea a potion to reduce the swelling and heal the muscle and ligament strain which had knocked the young girl out for an hour or so, but once she'd woken up and they'd had a late lunch, she was happily acting as though nothing had happened at all.

Which was much more than James could say about his son. Since returning home from the park, Harry had been uncharacteristically quiet and subdued, and then once lunch had been finished with, he'd taken himself upstairs to his bedroom. It was now three o'clock, and they'd nary heard a peep from the boy in more than an hour.

'I don't suppose you've any idea what's up with Harry, do you?' he asked Lily.

Her face took on a concerned expression and she shook her head. 'I was just about to ask you the same thing.'

James hummed in thought. 'Reckon he'll open up if I take him flying?'

'Possibly. Please don't take the Nimbus with you, though,' she said. 'I don't want to have to call Andi again.'

Nodding to acknowledge her request, he left the room and grabbed two broomsticks from the cupboard under the stairs. There was a choice of six: a Nimbus 1760, which was off-limits for today; two Cleansweep Fives; his father's Moontrimmer, which was more of a collectable these days; an old Comet 180; and the Comet 220 he'd played Quidditch on in Hogwarts. After a moment's deliberation he settled on the Cleansweeps. While the Nimbus had firmly cemented itself as Harry's favourite from the few times he'd flown it, it wasn't all too often that he was allowed to fly the Cleansweeps, so they'd still be a nice treat. The last time Lily had seen her son fly one, she swore blind that she'd lost at least two years of her second chance of life purely from worrying that he'd fall off, so they generally avoided them unless Lily wasn't around.

The Cleansweeps had actually turned out to be an absolute steal from a second-hand shop on Ayave Avenue, the hidden Wizarding street in the nearby (and very aptly named) village of Witchford. The old shopkeeper who owned the place obviously didn't have the first clue about broomsticks or their maintenance because he was selling the Fives at less than half the price they were available for as new, despite the fact that the only thing wrong with them was that a few of the bristles were bent. Once he got home, it had taken James all of fifteen minutes to fix them both up and they were good as new.

He shrunk the brooms and put them carefully into his pocket before setting off up the stairs to coax Harry out his room. This was a strange situation for James - the children very rarely misbehaved, and even rarer still were they particularly moody or stroppy. Sure, Thea had her moments, but he figured that was the right of a six year old girl. Harry was really quite mature for his age, and had always been the more level-headed of the two; never before had he shut himself away, so dealing with him right now was kind of uncharted territory.

The door to Harry's bedroom was ajar, so he knocked softly and let himself in when there was no response. Inside, the boy was sitting cross-legged on his bed reading a book - _Hogwarts: A History_ if he had to guess, which he didn't really; the book's distinct maroon cover was worn at the edges and the binding was fraying. Whether that was a marker of how well-loved the book was or its age was anybody's guess. It had been Lily's from before her first year, and James suspected that Harry had already read it through more times than she ever had. Absently, he noted that he might send an owl to Bathilda and ask if she'd be willing to spend an afternoon with Harry - he'd certainly love that.

'I'm going to Uncle Moony's to fly around for a bit,' James announced without preamble. Immediately, he could see that he'd caught his son's attention, but Harry kept his head stubbornly down facing the pages of his book. 'The second Cleansweep has your name on it if you want to join me?'

Even with his face hidden, the battle Harry was having with himself was clearly obvious. James stayed quiet for a moment but still received no actual response, so deployed his third and final tactic as he retreated from the room, pulling the door closed after him. 'Alright, I'll see you after dinner then. I'm going to try to convince Moony to get the barbecue going.'

He went back downstairs and slipped a pair of shoes on, before heading back into the living room to grab his keys. 'See you later,' he said to Lily. 'Probably won't be back until the evening.'

She looked up at him from the book she was reading. 'Is Harry not going with you?'

'Yeah, he is,' he replied, and smirked as the sound of someone running down the stairs proved his point. 'We'll sort ourselves out for dinner. Enjoy your girls' night in,'

'Oh, I will,' she promised. 'No doubt I'll get to see _Sleeping Beauty_ for the seventeenth time.'

James laughed as he left the room. 'That's your own fault for falling asleep every time,' he called over his shoulder. 'You might find that you like it if you were to ever actually make it to the end.'

-oOo-

Remus' so-called 'Den' was on an unplottable and heavily warded piece of farmland about a twenty minutes' drive away from their house, near the also quite aptly named village of Wicken. On the way over, James had tried to engage Harry in conversation a couple of times but had given up pretty quickly as the nine year old remained resolutely quiet. He wasn't being rude or ignoring James, mind, but the only responses the boy was giving were short and mumbled, so he gave it up as a bad job and the rest of the journey continued in relative silence.

They parked up outside of the farmhouse at the end of the long, private drive and made their way to the heavy oaken door. James knocked loudly and soon enough his friend answered the door with a smile.

'Prongs, cub, I wasn't expecting you,' Remus greeted them cheerfully.

'Yeah, sorry for not calling ahead. We were just wondering if you'd mind us making use of your land?' James pulled the shrunken broomsticks from his pockets by way of explanation.

Remus gestured towards the kitchen and, by extension, the back door. 'Be my guest,' he said. 'You know you're always welcome to it.'

James led Harry through the house and enlarged the Cleansweeps, handing one over to Harry. 'I'm just going to have a chat with your uncle, then I'll come and join you. Be careful, don't do anything I wouldn't do, and don't do some of the things I would do either until I come out, okay?'

'Yes, Dad,' Harry mumbled, and James ruffled his hair.

'Good lad.'

Harry quickly made his way out of the house and mounted the broom with a practised ease that never failed to make James jealous of his son's natural ability. He'd never been a slouch when it came to flying, but even being raised fully in the magical world it had still taken until his third year in Hogwarts before he was anywhere near as comfortable on a broom as Harry was now.

James made his way back into the living room to find that Remus was already entertaining company in the form of Albus, who looked to be getting ready to leave. 'Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were in the middle of something. Please, don't leave on my account, Albus.'

'You've not interrupted anything important, Prongs, don't worry,' said Remus. 'He was just asking me if I'd be interested in taking up the Defence professorship in September.'

James chuckled. 'Does that make this the fourth year in a row, or was that last year? Tim's finally had enough of waiting, I take it?'

Albus smiled good-naturedly. 'Timothy hasn't resigned the position just yet, but he makes the plans for his retirement more widely known with each year that passes. This is the fourth year, now, but it's a number that will continue to increase until Remus agrees. I'm afraid I can be rather insistent,' he said with a teasing smile.

'And as flattered as I am by your persistence, Albus, you know my reasons for declining. That number will continue to increase for as long as there are children in the castle. It's not safe for me to be there,' Remus argued in an even voice.

'Oh, come off it Moony,' said James. 'Your being at Hogwarts is no more dangerous now than it was when you were a student.'

'Which is precisely what I was saying before you arrived, James,' Albus agreed. 'We could also put in place more preventative measures than we did back then. The risk would be absolutely minimal.'

Remus shook his head at the double team he was now facing. 'Be all that as it may, I find myself completely unwilling to be the source of _any_ risk to the students. I truly appreciate the offer as always, but I'm afraid my answer remains unchanged. Thank you, but no thank you.'

Albus shrugged his shoulders. 'I had hoped to talk you around this year, but alas. I cannot fault you for standing by your morals. I shall take my leave and return this time next year.'

'Or you could save yourself the trip,' Remus said, not unkindly. 'My answer will be no different.'

'Actually, Albus,' James interrupted as an idea crossed his mind. 'I wonder if you might be willing to stay a little while longer. I think I might need all the help I can get with Harry, if it's no imposition on you both?

Remus gestured his acquiescence and James took a seat next to him as Albus settled back into the armchair he'd begun to vacate. 'What's up?'

'I'm not sure. Thea broke her arm this morning while they were at the playground, but Ruth Levisham - who, it turns out, is a witch by the way - brought them home and Andi came by to fix her up, so she's back to her usual self now. Harry's been pretty quiet since then, though, and even took himself up to his room. I tried to talk to him, but he's not been very forthcoming, so I hoped that maybe flying would help him loosen up a bit.' James glanced at his friend out of the corner of his eye as a sheepish grin graced his face. 'I may also have mentioned the possibility of a barbecue.'

Remus rolled his eyes and snorted. 'I'm sure that Albus would be happy to help me gather some wood while you go and wear Harry down a bit.'

'Certainly,' the old man agreed.

The men set the plan in action from there. James took up the second Cleansweep and flew up to his son while Remus and Albus set up the barbecue. For a good while the two Potters just flew around each other aimlessly, but that eventually turned into Harry chasing James as they weaved through and around the trees on one side of the farm. They continued with that for about five minutes or so until Harry got within reach of him, at which point James slowed down and performed a sloth grip roll, swapping the roles around and making him the chaser while Harry flew to evade.

After maybe an hour of flying about, Harry finally started to tire out and slow down. James flew up beside him as they gently flew back and forth in the air. 'Ready to talk yet?' he asked gently.

'I couldn't heal her,' Harry said in a small voice, and James just frowned in confusion. 'When Thea hurt her arm, I tried to heal her like I did those ladies in the hospital, but nothing happened. Why not?' he asked, as his voice broke a bit.

He nodded in understanding. 'I see. Why don't we go back to the house and talk about it? The Headmaster is down there with your uncle - I'm sure we can figure it out between the four of us.'

At his nod, they swept over the grounds of Remus' Den towards the farmhouse and landed just a few metres short of where Albus and Moony were tending to dinner. Beside them, a large wooden picnic table was laid out with a modest spread of sauces, bread, cheese, and salad.

'Right on time,' said Remus jovially. 'The burgers have just finished cooking.'

Harry eyed the plate of burgers suspiciously as Moony placed them onto the table in front of him. 'Cooked how you like them or cooked how everybody else likes them?' he asked cautiously.

Albus chuckled as he took the seat beside him. 'Cooked properly. I supervised the process myself.'

That answer seemed to be acceptable, as the boy promptly grabbed a bread roll from a bowl in the middle of the table and set out making himself a burger, with the men following his lead, entering into an unspoken competition to build the best looking selection of food.

'So what's had you feeling out of sorts today then, Harry?' Albus asked once they'd all finished loading their plates.

Harry looked at James, seemingly for either permission or confirmation that he could talk about what was bothering him, which he gave without hesitation. Picking at his food, he spoke quietly without looking up. 'Has Dad told you about what happened at St Mungo's?'

'I know that you, rather remarkably, healed two ladies a fortnight ago. Is that what you mean?'

He nodded and nibbled a bit on a carrot stick, swallowing heavily before responding. 'When Thea hurt herself this morning, I tried to heal her like I healed those ladies. But it didn't work,' he said thickly, 'I tried - I really did - but nothing happened.'

'Well first off,' James interjected, to head off Harry from getting any more upset than he already was, 'Thea is perfectly fine now. Mrs Tonks came around and fixed her up like she used to do with you. Nobody expected you to have to heal your sister, Harry, and we're certainly not upset that you couldn't.'

'Why couldn't I though?' Harry asked despairingly. 'I've healed people before - not just the ladies in the hospital, but Mum too!'

Albus placed his hand gently on the boy's shoulder and spoke softly. 'Tell me what was wrong with the people you've healed.'

He furrowed his brow in concentration and nodded. 'Thea was really weak when Mum was carrying her and nearly died, so I healed them both and they were fine. Miss Jorkins' mind was broken because of a memory charm, so I removed it and fixed what was wrong. And the other lady's lungs were full of liquid, so I got it out of her and healed her lungs when they were empty,' he finished, screwing up his nose.

The Headmaster nodded thoughtfully. 'And that other lady, would she have survived if you hadn't helped her, do you think?' he questioned, to which Harry shook his head. 'Your Dad allowed me to watch his memory of the day in St Mungo's in a special device I have in Hogwarts. Do you remember what Miss Jorkins said before she left the room?'

Harry screwed his face up in thought for a moment. 'She asked about someone. A director?' he said uncertainly, looking at his father for clarification.

'She asked about Amelia Bones, who is the new Director of the DMLE,' James explained.

Albus smiled and nodded again, visibly pleased with the opportunity to impart new knowledge or wisdom. _Once a teacher, always a teacher_ , James mused. 'Though I can't say very much about it, I can tell you that Miss Jorkins did indeed go and see Madam Bones that afternoon, having remembered something very important that very well might save many people's lives.'

'So it only works when people might die?' Harry asked confusedly, to which the old man smiled broadly.

'Though I couldn't say for certain, that is precisely what I think is the case.'

Despite the praise at his coming to the same conclusion as the wise old mage, the boy's face fell. 'But what if other people are hurt? I can't help them?'

'Of course you can, cub,' Remus answered softly. 'Maybe not in the same way, but you could always study Healing Magic in Hogwarts and become a Healer. That way you could help people in both ways.'

Remus' words seemed to placate Harry slightly, but he obviously still wasn't completely happy with that answer. 'But that's years away! What if Thea gets hurt again, or somebody else? What's the point in only being able to help _some_ people?'

'The point is, Harry, that the extraordinary things that you are able to do have a higher purpose. What have Mum and Dad told you about that Halloween night?' Albus asked.

'Everything, I think?'

James nodded his agreement, and Albus shifted to look at him. 'And do you remember, Dad, what Death told you about Harry's role when Mum asked him about it?'

'I'll never forget,' he answered. 'Support those who are close to dying, help those whose time isn't up, and judge those who have caused, or are likely to cause, undue suffering.' Of course, that wasn't _exactly_ what Death had said, but James figured that there were some things that his nine year old didn't need to hear yet - his ability to _condemn_ being one of them, whatever that even meant in practice.

Albus smiled sympathetically, likely guessing James' thoughts since he too knew Death's actual wording. 'So you see,' he said, turning his attention back to Harry, 'all of the wonderful things that you can do as part of your role are part of the bigger picture. Should you want to help more people - which I must say is a very noble thing to pursue - then studying Healing Magic is certainly the way forward.

'I'm also quite sure that Madam Pomfrey would be quite happy to lend you her assistance before the course is available to you, should you be interested.'

Harry was quiet for a moment as he processed everything that had been discussed. It certainly was a lot for anybody to have to deal with, let alone a young boy. Not for the first time, James idly wondered if the whole Master of Death thing really was worth it before realising, as he often did, that he wouldn't be alive today without it.

'I'm going to become a Healer when I grow up,' his son said decisively, breaking the contemplative silence that had fallen over the group.

James smiled. 'I think that is a fantastic idea.'

* * *

**A/N:** Sweet Merlin, this chapter took on a life of its own.

Please let me know if you notice any errors or inconsistencies in this chapter, or any others in the story.

Thank you all for continuing to read and enjoy this story. I appreciate every comment, review, and message.

Peace and love, _amidland_.


	12. The Goblin Tongue

_Saturday 13th October, 1990_

**CROUCH FAMILY DISGRACED… AGAIN!  
** **FUDGE NEW FAVOURITE FOR TOP JOB  
** **FOSTER TRAILS AS ELECTION DRAWS CLOSE**

_The House of Crouch faces its final disgrace after Madam Amelia Bones makes a statement revealing the details of the arrest of Bartemius Crouch Sr., Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement._

_What crime has the lauded Ministerial favourite committed, you may ask? Look no further than the wizard who faces trial alongside him: one Bartemius Crouch Jr.!_

_Crouch Sr. is accused of smuggling his son out of Azkaban by use of Polyjuice Potion. The DMLE alleges that Crouch Sr. and his wife, Mrs Elsie Crouch, were permitted a deathbed visit to the prison in late 1984 due to Mrs Crouch's failing health and Senior's high standing in the Ministry. According to Madam Bones, the Crouch parents took the opportunity to switch mother and son using the shape-shifting potion and left as normal. Mrs Crouch was reported to have died just hours later._

_In the years between the prison break and his arrest, Crouch Sr. had allegedly kept his son under the Imperius Curse at the Crouch ancestral home near Spore-in-the-Moor, in Devon. A confidential informant approached the DMLE in late July last year claiming to have seen Crouch Jr. in the house on a visit and was memory charmed to forget the incident. Madam Bones provided no explanation as to how the witness managed to overcome the memory charm._

_A closed trial before the Wizengamot is set to be held on the 2nd of November after more than a year of investigation and a three-month-long covert Auror operation leading to both Crouch's arrests. The trial is notably_ after _the 1990 Ministerial Election, making Crouch Sr.'s candidacy ineligible due to his detainment. That law was put into place after Augustus Clipp's infamous 1903 Ministerial Election victory, which came just a day before he was tried and convicted for the Improper Handling of a Granian, and therefore ousted from the office, leaving Venusia Crickerly to take up the role._

_Crouch Sr.'s forced withdrawal from this month's Ministerial Election leaves Cornelius Fudge, long-time Head of the Wizengamot Administrative Services, as the firm favourite to become Britain's new Minister for Magic since Albus Dumbledore (Chief Warlock and internationally renowned hero of the Global Wizarding War) has, for the third election running, removed himself from consideration for the position._

_The Crouch trial also boosts Muggle-born candidate Robert Foster's chances for the election, which begins in just under a fortnight. According to a poll this paper performed after Madam Bones' statement last night, 3 out of 10 voters approached believe that Mr Foster has a chance to win the election - the highest chances for a Muggle-born candidate since Minister Nobby Leach's shock election win in 1962._

_For Messrs Fudge's and Foster's comments on the Crouch trial, turn overleaf to pages 2 and 3._

_To see profiles of Messrs Fudge and Foster, turn to pages 6 and 7._

-o-

'Harry, are you going like that, or do you want to get changed?'

A familiar pull had made itself known as he'd read the headlines on the front page of this morning's _Daily Prophet_ \- a pull which had only gotten stronger as he'd read the accompanying article. The last nine years of his life had been spent intermittently becoming accustomed to the experience and recently he'd been getting better at recognising it and letting it lead him, rather than fighting it and having it just take over once it reached boiling point.

He folded the newspaper and put it back on the table before quickly gulping down the last of his squash as Mum walked into the kitchen. 'I need to come to Gringotts with you,' he said, surprising himself just as much as he surprised her with the abrupt statement.

Today, his parents were going to Gringotts for their last meeting about Mum's family tree magic. The dwarfs had already been offering the test in Velskytte's since August and it'd been wildly successful in North America. It had taken off in mainland Europe too once the Gnomes of Switzerland had followed the dwarfs example and started offering it in their branches. In Britain, the goblins were being difficult about the whole deal - as goblins often were - and Mum and Dad had been attending meeting after meeting trying to come to an agreement, while the goblins wanted a bigger cut, more assurances, more proof, or some other silly demand.

'Why?' Mum asked as she blinked in shock. 'I mean, the meetings are really boring. I think _I'd_ prefer to spend time with Neville than deal with the goblins, to be honest with you.'

He shrugged. 'I don't know yet, but we'll soon find out. Do you know where my sunglasses are?'

'Oh!' she said, having taken a second to realise what she meant. 'Are they not in your room?'

'I don't think so.'

'Well have a look there first - a proper look!' she stressed, both of them knowing full well how terrible he was at finding things, '- and if they're not there then they might be in one of the coffee table drawers.'

Harry nodded and checked the coffee table first while he was downstairs, but the glasses weren't in any of the three drawers so he ran up the stairs towards his room. At his bedroom door he stopped in his tracks, suppressing his first instinct to check his bedside drawers; there was no chance he'd actually put them away properly after the last time he'd had them. Instead, he thought for a moment about where Mum would look first if she had to come up and find them.

With that thought, he walked straight towards the pile of clothes on the floor beside the laundry basket which had piled up from his many failed attempts at throwing shirts into it from the other side of the room. After he'd lifted up the third shirt and put it in the basket, he spotted the glasses in the back pocket of a pair of jeans. He gave himself a mental pat on the back, feeling proud of himself for how quickly he'd managed to find them, despite the fact that one of the lenses was cracked. It was the little victories, as Padfoot always said, though that was usually when he'd pulled off a pretty unimpressive prank on Dad.

'Can I borrow your magic, Mum?' he asked as he ran back downstairs and into the kitchen.

She looked at the glasses in his hand critically. 'Let me guess: in the pile of clothes that you've thrown next to the basket?'

'How do you do that?' he complained.

Mum smirked at him as she pulled her wand and silently fixed the glasses in his hand. 'It's a Mum thing,' she said cryptically, as though that was any explanation at all, and herded him into the hallway.

'Are you about ready to go, kid?' Dad asked as he came downstairs, Thea in tow.

'Yeah, but I'm coming with you.'

Dad raised an eyebrow in Mum's direction, and just shrugged when she did. 'Alright then.'

'Why aren't you coming to Layla's?' Thea asked as she struggled to tug on her shoes.

Harry crouched down and helped her push her feet into the little trainers. 'I've got to see the goblins, squirt. I'll see you later when we come and pick you up.'

'Don't call me squirt,' the little girl huffed, and kicked out at him without any force. Mum still saw it though, and rounded on her.

'Thea!'

'Harry started it!' she pouted.

'And I'm ending it,' Mum said in a tone which clearly allowed no further discussion. 'Come on, get your coat on.'

-oOo-

Gringotts, Wizarding Britain's premier (and only) bank, had pride of place in London's magical district. The goblin bank had branches in a number of countries across mainland Europe and Scandinavia; the British branch was directly across from Diagon Alley's main entrance at the back of the Leaky Cauldron, standing tall and leaning distinctly to the left. Harry and his parents walked purposefully through the Alley, ignoring a few awed stares and whispers which seemed to follow them wherever they went in magical Britain. It was for that reason that they tended to stay in the Muggle world.

Outside of the grand marble building, a goblin stood guard in his scarlet and gold-trimmed armour. He was maybe a foot shorter than Harry, which he noted seemed pretty tall for a goblin. The expression on his face was dour and severe, as if issuing a challenge to everybody at the same time, but nobody in particular.

In no small part because banking was dreadfully boring at the best of times, Harry had never actually been into Gringotts before. Of course, he knew from a number of books he'd read that the goblins were a warrior race, and weren't best known for their patience or sense of humour, and his parents (mostly Dad) had told him about the goblins' stubborn rudeness and how they more than made up for their lack of stature in sheer intimidation.

None of that had prepared him for actually entering the bank for the first time, though. The guard at the door bowed them in as they climbed the marble steps after studying them with a hard, critical gaze. They entered into a large, spacious foyer facing a huge set of double doors which looked to be made of pure silver, with a pair of armoured goblins standing guard on either side. An unsettlingly poetic message was engraved in large letters on the grand doors, warning against greed and theft. As they were bowed through the doors once more, Harry got a clearer view of the halberds the guards held and absently thought it'd be a really foolish thief to make an attempt on this bank.

The silver doors opened into a vast marble hall, lined on either side by two long counters, behind which about a hundred goblins sat on large stools, scribbling in ledgers, weighing gems and coins, or doing other such banking things. There were wizards queuing before many of the tellers, who didn't seem to be paying much mind at all to the amount of time they were taking.

As he looked around the room, drinking in the intricate masonry and the bustle of the bank, a wooden door in the corner of the room inexplicably caught his attention. It was nondescript - completely overlookable - but for the two goblins standing guard either side of it. His vision darkened and, now recognising the next step of whatever purpose he had for coming here, he stood a little straighter and set off in that direction, leaving his parents to catch up with him once they realised that he'd marched off.

Once he had his back to the queues of wizards, he took off the sunglasses he'd donned before leaving the house. The armour these guards wore wasn't the same as those at the doors - the scarlet and gold trim was replaced with that of a dark midnight blue, and the Gringotts crest was emblazoned onto the centre of their breastplates. The goblins straightened up menacingly as he approached.

' _The Chief will want to see me_ ,' he announced without preamble in the raspy voice that was, by now, quite familiar to him. What wasn't familiar, however, was the language he spoke in. It was guttural and harsh, and he wasn't sure that humans were even capable of making some of the sounds that he just had - it had felt like he was choking on his tongue. He'd spoken Gobbledegook - the goblin tongue - he assumed, and not for the first time he found himself wishing he could call upon some of this magic at will. Maybe when he was older.

The guards glanced at each other before levelling their gaze back at him, not moving from their post. Obviously, he hadn't been clear enough.

' _I see_ ,' he continued in their native language. ' _I'll leave you to decide between yourselves as to who gets to tell him that his people ignored the Master of Death_.' Taking his sunglasses back out from his pocket, he smirked at their disbelieving looks. 'Who knows, perhaps one of you will even live,' he whispered in English and turned on his heel.

Mum and Dad were staring at him wearing twin shocked expressions on their faces as he started to stride confidently away. He'd barely made it five paces before the guards came to their senses. 'Halt!'

Harry stopped and turned slowly, smirking as one hastened to open the door. 'That's better. Please, after you.'

One of the goblins led them down a complex network of winding and forking stone corridors while the other remained in the hall, closing the door behind them. After a few minutes of walking in silence, Dad spoke to him in a whisper so as not to be overheard. 'I'm all for the direct method, Harry, but is it wise to be rude to the goblins?'

'There's a difference between rude and confident, Dad.'

'And which were you?'

They reached a heavy wooden door which was trimmed with gold and stopped as the goblin leading them knocked loudly three times before taking a step back. 'I think we're about to find out,' Harry whispered.

The door swung open and at the guard's signal they followed him into a large, opulent office lit dimly by wall sconces fixed to the walls every couple of feet. In the centre of the room was a large table with twelve simple wooden chairs surrounding it on three sides. On the fourth side was a bigger wooden seat, so intricately crafted and carved that it looked more like a throne than the chairs it accompanied. On the opposite side of the room was a wide desk, stacked high with a number of leather-bound volumes and reams upon reams of parchment.

After closing the door behind them, the guard hastened across the room and had a hushed conversation with somebody - presumably the goblin Chief - that Harry couldn't see for all of the clutter on the desk. A couple of minutes passed before the guard spun around and headed for the door of the room, quickly bowing to Harry and his parents as he passed them.

'I've been wondering when you'd come,' spoke a raspy, gravelly voice. 'I was expecting you years ago.'

The goblin to whom the voice belonged moved from behind the desk, finally making himself visible. Harry wasn't quite sure what he was expecting, but the mental image he would have conjured at the words 'goblin Chief' couldn't have been further from the truth. Somehow, he knew the Chief's name was Torgack - whether he'd read it in a book, or it was just a piece of knowledge that had made itself known thanks to Death, he wasn't sure.

Chief Torgack was taller than Harry was, and moved slowly, shuffling his feet more than walking. There wasn't much hair atop his head, but what was there was grey, matching a beard that reached the middle of his chest in a single braid. Beady, steel-grey eyes swept over them all before settling on Dad.

'Master of Death, you say? I knew your predecessor.'

Harry's vision went completely black as memories of previous meetings in this office suddenly flooded his mind; they weren't his, yet strangely they weren't completely unfamiliar either. The Torgack in the memories was much younger, much more well built. He stood a bit taller back then too, Harry noted as his eyesight slowly restored, though that was probably due more to the fact that the goblin was now slightly hunched with age.

'You were much prettier when I was Leland,' Harry bantered, as though this weren't the first time he'd met the old Chief. Though in a way, he supposed, it wasn't the first time at all.

Torgack's gaze snapped from Dad to him, and his white eyebrows raised in surprise before he barked out a laugh. 'You knew how to use your stones when you were Leland.' Harry flushed a deep red and Dad stifled a laugh as Mum glared at him. 'Well, that explains why it took you so long to turn up. I thought you were being a prick. The prophets told me you were back six years ago.'

'They're losing their touch; I've been back for nine. Harry Potter. Mum, Dad, this is Chief Torgack; Torgack, my parents James and Lily Potter.'

'Yes, yes, I know who you all are. I've not been living under a rock.'

Harry rolled his eyes as he heard Mum sternly whispering a 'Don't you dare,' at Dad, who was seconds away from pointing out that the Chief had, as a matter of fact, been living under quite a lot of rock.

'Sit down,' Torgack invited, waving at the conference table, though it sounded much more like an order. 'What can I do for you?'

'I don't know,' Harry admitted as he took the seat at the conference table directly to the left of the chair at the head. 'You tell me, you've been expecting me for six years.'

The goblin Chief grunted as he settled into his chair. 'I've known you were back for six years,' he corrected. 'I've only been expecting you for three. We've been going through old Death Eater vaults and estates as your Ministry levies more and more fines against them, and confiscated a couple of items that I kept. Thought they might pique your interest.'

'Oh?'

'What does the word _Horcrux_ mean to you?'

It had meant nothing at all to him thirty seconds ago, but Harry's vision darkened as the knowledge of what the vile things were flooded unbidden into his mind. A shiver ran down the length of his spine as he realised just how reprehensible and magically corrupt the things truly were. 'Horcruxes? A _couple_ of them? And you've just kept them around while you waited for me?'

Mum cleared her throat from across the table. 'What's a Horcrux?'

He screwed his nose up. 'Dirty, horrible magic. Darker than dark. They're a disgusting way to make yourself mostly-but-not-actually immortal, in the most twisted sort of way.'

'Oh,' she replied in a quiet voice. 'Somebody's cheating Death?'

Torgack hummed before Harry could respond. 'Somebody was _trying to_. The items are empty now though - I would have destroyed them immediately if they weren't. I was tempted to destroy them anyway. Loathsome things, they are.'

'Hold on, how are they empty if they're not destroyed?' Harry butted in.

The Chief shot him a toothy grin. 'I said you'd find them interesting. These _were_ the Horcruxes of a certain Tom Riddle.'

'Oh.' Harry sat back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair. 'I should have guessed. Can I see them?' he asked. Torgack waved his hand, and a drawer in his desk opened from which two items soared out and came to settle in the middle of the table between the four of them. Harry reached out, but stopped himself just before touching them. 'They're safe?' he asked the goblin, who nodded.

'That one was in the old Malfoy Manor, hidden away in a room full of magical shit that would make your blood curdle - some of it literally,' Torgack explained as Harry picked up one of them. It was a simple black diary with 'T. M. Riddle' inscribed in red on the spine. Flicking through it, Harry found it blank. While there was no doubt in his mind that the item was clear of Riddle's soul - every part of that monster was dead and gone - the diary still felt dirty to hold. A lingering sense of unnatural wrongness seemed to ooze from the thing.

He placed it back on the table and picked up the other item. It was a small golden cup with two finely wrought handles. On one side, a badger had been delicately engraved into the surface, while on the other were two Hs entwined in a fancy script. The second he picked it up, the room went dark once more. Looking down at the cup, he could see three threads attached to it and heading out of the room. One of the threads was a deep crimson and headed upwards and through the ceiling. While the other two were red too, they were a much lighter shade and seemed to be going in the same direction through one of the walls.

There was one more thread attached to the cup, but it didn't connect to anything else. It was a dully glowing white and seemed to be probing around as though searching for something to make a connection with - evidently, its fate was as yet undecided.

Harry looked at the table to where he knew the diary to be, though he couldn't see it. There were no threads attached to it at all. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, placing the cup gently on the table. When he opened his eyes, his vision was completely normal and he squinted against the sudden increase in light.

'There's something more going on with the cup,' he said to Torgack, who had been waiting patiently for him to speak, 'so I'd like to keep it. The diary can be destroyed though, preferably in the most destructive way possible.'

'That won't come cheap,' the goblin said pointedly.

Harry narrowed his eyes at him. 'And what price would you like me to quote to Death himself?'

Torgack huffed. 'I'm not a bloody charity.'

'You make plenty of money as is,' the young Master of Death retorted. 'Speaking of which, my parents came to the bank today for business of their own.'

-oOo-

After almost two further hours of discussion - though Harry wasn't involved with these ones - Torgack finally signed an agreement for Gringotts to provide Mum's genealogy tests in their branches, starting in Britain, and expanding into their European branches should they prove 'commercially viable' (read: profitable). From what he could gather, the goblins had taken a larger cut of the profits than the dwarfs or gnomes had, but at this point Mum was just happy to have them available to the British public, and so had agreed on the goblins taking forty percent.

Harry stretched as he rose to his feet once the negotiations had been finalised. He could honestly say he understood why Mum had said that she'd rather spend time with Neville than have more of these conversations. That said, he'd rather spend time with Neville than do a lot of things actually. He might not share his friend's interest in flowers and plants, but he still enjoyed spending time in the greenhouse - it was usually quite relaxing when it wasn't dangerous or backbreaking, even if he did have the polar opposite of green fingers.

'Do let me know if I can provide you with more of my charity, Master,' Torgack snarked as playfully as a goblin could, bringing him out of his musings.

Harry rolled his eyes, and went to wish him goodbye, but stopped suddenly and turned to face the old goblin fully. 'Actually, there might just be something,' he hedged, as his vision dimmed slightly yet again. 'Is that old body still capable of shenanigans?'

Torgack raised an eyebrow at him. 'I'll have you know that this old body is still capable of everything it was before Leland died.' He smirked, then added. 'Some new things too.'

Dad snorted aloud, evidently unable to hold himself back this time, and Mum huffed. He wasn't quite sure what Dad found so funny, but experience had told him not to probe into such things too much. Harry walked over to Torgack's desk, plucking a quill and a blank piece of parchment from it. He quickly scribbled down a note and folded the parchment in half before handing it over to the Chief.

'We could even call it a favour. Think you could manage that?' he asked with a falsely innocent smile.

The Chief unfolded the parchment, scanning it rapidly, and his eyebrows shot up to where his hairline had been more than two hundred years previously. 'And what kind of shenanigans would you class this as?'

'The best kind,' Harry chirped cheerfully. 'Will you do it?'

Torgack sighed and brushed his hand across the top of his nearly bald head. 'We never had this conversation.'

Harry smiled as he pushed the golden cup into Mum's bag. 'Of course not.'

* * *

**A/N:** There's a little bit of everything in this chapter (except Hermione - it's coming, I promise!), so I hope you enjoy it.

Endless thanks to _Proton_ and _Bob49_ from the HMS Harmony Discord server for beta'ing this chapter for me, it's much better for their input, I promise. You can join the discord server by visiting hhriscanonbitches (dot) com

Thank you for continuing to read and enjoy _Three Hallows' Eve_!

Stay well, _amidland_


	13. The New Minister

_Thursday 1st November, 1990_

**1990 MINISTERIAL ELECTION CONCLUDES!  
** **FOSTER FLOURISHES AS FUDGE FALLS FROM GRACE!  
** **BRITAIN'S SECOND MUGGLE-BORN MINISTER ELECTED!**

_For only the second time ever, a Muggle-born candidate has been elected as the country's new Minister for Magic, after what will surely go down in history as one of Britain's most chaotic - nay,_ pandemonic _\- Ministerial elections._

_On January 1st, five people confirmed their bid for the top job, chief among them being: Bartemius Crouch Sr, Cornelius Fudge, and Robert Foster. After months of campaigning, this newspaper's September polls were absolutely decisive in that Mr Crouch would reign victorious. This year, almost 90 percent of the more than one thousand British people who were polled said they were voting for Crouch Sr._

_As regular readers will of course know, the Daily Prophet September polls have, for more than a century, accurately predicted the outcome of the election. Well, 1990 has bucked the trend! After one of the most unbelievable Octobers on record, not one but two - yes, two! - of the Ministerial candidates were involved in a scandal that cost them their chance!_

_In our 13th of October edition, a little over two weeks ago, people up and down the nation were shocked to find out that Bartemius Crouch Senior had been arrested by the DMLE for a veritable plethora of charges. The alleged crimes include, but aren't limited to: Use of an Unforgivable, Aiding the Escape of Custody, Falsifying Official Records, Resisting Arrest, and Perjury. Crouch Sr.'s detention resulted in his being dropped from the election altogether, as a person with unanswered charges hasn't been able to stand as a Ministerial candidate since 1904._

_Then, not three days later, this publication was provided with leaked financial documents which detailed uncountable cases of bribery and corruption involving Cornelius Fudge. Within hours of the Daily Prophet's morning release, Director Bones of the DMLE had issued a statement regarding the arrest of Cornelius Fudge too! The long-time Head of the Wizengamot Administration Service sang like a siren to the Aurors, admitting to all charges against him_ and _implicating not less than SEVENTEEN members of the Wizengamot, several of the Hogwarts governors, and a shocking number of people in various positions of power._

_After all of this, it's no wonder that the wizards and witches of Britain longed for a breath of fresh air in the Ministry, and Muggle-born Robert Foster promises just that. In his acceptance speech, the incoming Minister pledged to bring about fairer treatment for all magical Britons, stating that he plans to focus on overhauling all of the 'antiquated and unjust' laws in the country that the 'financially and morally corrupt leaders of old have forced onto the people of Britain.'_

_Minister Foster promised that more announcements would follow over the coming days and weeks as he began his work on 'bringing Britain into the 20th century, even if it comes ninety years too late.'_

-o-

At the Potters' house in Cambridge, the little party cheered as James read aloud the day's paper for the third time that morning. The election was a massive success for all that James had been working towards for most of the last decade, and was a sign that more changes were on their way for Britain.

The election officially ended at a minute to midnight on the 31st of October, and James and Lily had accepted Alice and Frank's offer to take Harry and Thea off their hands so they could celebrate properly as the last of the votes were cast and the results were announced. Minerva had visited in the evening between classes and the Halloween feast to give early congratulations as the WWN suggested that the election looked to be going in Foster's favour.

Remus had arrived shortly before eight o'clock - the full moon in just two days wasn't even enough to put a damper on his spirits. One of the newest bills that James was looking to try and put before the Wizengamot was regarding the fair treatment of witches and wizards infected with lycanthropy: free or Ministry-subsidised Wolfsbane Potion was one of the items on the bill, alongside legislation making it illegal to discriminate against registered lycans in much the same fashion as it now was for Muggle-borns.

Sirius had joined them not long after Remus arrived, accompanied by his girlfriend Aspen Lyre, much to the amusement of the others who all remembered how ardently he'd pursued her in school. They'd run into each other at St Mungo's not long after Aspen had been healed by Harry; Sirius had been consulting in the Kye Mirror Ward, which cared for patients who had managed to end up with parts of their body transfigured. Aspen had been released from the care of the hospital as Sirius was on his break and they'd bumped into each other, which had led to them happily dating now for just over a year.

'Did you notice who was missing from their coverage on who was implicated?' Remus asked with a chuckle as the cheering settled.

James shook his head and flicked through the paper, turning to the article in question and running his finger down the list of names. All seventeen of the Wizengamot members were listed, as were the three Hogwarts governors who didn't have a seat in that chamber. Two employees in the Department of Mysteries and a handful from St Mungo's, including one of the board members, were also included. He furrowed his brow and looked up at Remus questioningly.

Remus took the paper from James and leafed through before placing it back on the table for the others to read, pointing to a tiny article about halfway through.

-o-

**New Management for Daily Prophet**

_BWM, or the British Wizarding Media Co., the majority shareholders in a large number of media sources in Britain, including the_ Daily Prophet _;_ Witch Weekly _and its new monthly sister publication_ Which Witch? _;_ Wizengamot This Month _; and the_ Wizarding Wireless Network _, welcomes its first change in management in more than seventy years._

_After two weeks of discussions and negotiations, BWM has changed hands for an undisclosed sum. Mr Rupert Wyrme, who took over the company after his father's death in 1917, said that his decision to move on from BWM was not one he took lightly, but that it was ultimately the right time for him to step away._

_Here at the Daily Prophet, we'd like to give a warm welcome to the incoming owner of BWM, Mr Cyril Bagley, and give our gratitude to Mr Wyrme, who has personally overseen our publication every day for his entire tenure as owner. We wish him all the best for the future._

-o-

Sirius grinned as he looked up from the article. 'The Worm was implicated by Fudge too?'

James laughed in delight. 'I heard that he paid Fudge tens of thousands in return for his cooperation when he was elected. Obviously he's concerned about the charges enough that he sold the Prophet off before it got liquidated by the goblins for reparations.'

'Dad was pleased as punch when he heard,' Remus said. 'Apparently the Worm had been a right bastard to him ever since he refused to write anymore articles against werewolves. BWM hasn't even acknowledged a single one of his papers in almost 30 years.'

'Is this Bagley any better, though, or is he just going to be another Wyrme?' asked Aspen, to which James nodded in response.

'He's not an angel but he's a damn sight better than The Worm,' he replied. 'I remember him visiting when I was a boy when he and Dad had business to attend to. He owns most of the commercial apothecaries in Britain, so he'd be around often when Sleekeazy's was getting off the ground.'

James found himself hard-pressed to decide which was the better news between the election and BWM's change of hands. While Foster's win held promise for bigger and better changes for British society, Bagley taking the reins of the Prophet and BWM meant that people were more likely to read about those changes. Not just that, but for the first time, they might actually be shown in a positive light. Maybe it would be worth arranging a meeting with Bagley to get a feel for his thoughts and feelings about modernising Britain.

His thoughts were interrupted by a tapping on the window of the kitchen, where they were all sitting, huddled around a dining table which was only barely big enough for the five of them. Lily got up from the table and opened the window to allow the large, brown tawny owl to deliver its letter. It landed in front of James, who ripped off a piece of bacon from his plate and gave it to the bird before untying the letter from its foot. The owl gobbled down the offering and then remained, staring at him expectantly.

Opening it, he found a missive, handwritten on heavy, quality parchment, from the Office of the Minister for Magic. As he read, he couldn't help the large smile that grew on his face. He read it through, and then once again, before refolding it and placing it back into its envelope. Looking up, he found four extremely curious faces gazing at him, clearly wondering what was written that had made him so happy.

James cleared his throat. 'Our new Minister for Magic has requested a meeting with me, at my earliest convenience, for a discussion about how his Ministry can work with me in my efforts to "modernise magical Britain,"' he declared officiously.

Another round of celebratory woops and cheers were given at his proclamation. Sirius clapped him on the back and gave him a brotherly hug in celebration, as did Remus and Aspen. James turned around and took Lily in his arms, picking her up and spinning her around in circles, stubbornly ignoring her laughing pleas to 'Put me down, you great rascal.'

'This is it,' he whispered to her, both of them swaying as he let her stand on her own feet after one or two too many spins. 'This is what we've been working towards.'

'I didn't do very much,' she replied in the same low tone, before sweetly pecking him on the lips. 'This is all you.'

' _Au contraire_ ,' he rebuked, punctuating his sentence with another gentle kiss, 'I couldn't have done it without you.'

'What have I told you about speaking French to me when we've got company?'

The couple's flirting was interrupted, quite rudely James thought, by the Minister's owl hooting at them a bit demandingly. He kissed Lily once more before stepping out of their embrace and leaving the room to find a piece of parchment and a quill. At the stationary drawer in the living room, he stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. It was quite overwhelming, if he was being honest with himself, and he found himself suddenly blindsided by a feeling he'd not dared to let himself actually feel in all eight years he'd been pushing for reform and equality.

Hope.

For the first time since he left Hogwarts, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, James Potter truly felt hopeful for the future of magical Britain.

-oOo-

Time passed excruciatingly slowly for James as he sat outside of the Minister's office waiting for the meeting Foster was currently in to wrap up. It was his own fault, really. In his anxious excitement, he'd arrived at the Ministry at half past two - half an hour before his appointment.

To help pass the time, he'd visited Barclay Piper in the Underage Office to see how things were going in there. It was a habit he liked to keep up even now, five years after the M.U.S had been set up. More often than not, he dropped by when he was getting screwed over by one person or another for whatever change he was lobbying for. The visits helped to remind him that there was a light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak, and that his efforts weren't all for naught.

Having had a good catch up with Barclay, he started to head towards the Minister's office on the first floor, only to check his watch along the way and realise that he'd only actually managed to waste ten minutes. Instead, he took a detour via the Ministry canteen. Each and every time he'd been to the canteen in the past, he'd ended up queuing for at least ten minutes just to get a cup of coffee, so that would be a sure-fire way to piss away some time.

Unfortunately the canteen had been completely empty on account of it being the day of the Ministerial changeover, and the whole detour had only actually taken him four minutes, which led to where he was now: sat on a fairly uncomfortable chair facing the Minister's personal assistant who it turned out, by some cruel twist of fate, had a propensity for chewing Charlie Cheldry's Snapping Gum.

Every minute or so, she would blow her gum out in a bubble which took the shape of a Doxy. It also took the single-most annoying habit of a Doxy - snapping its jaws. Then the bubble would pop, and it'd start all over again. The effect was maddening.

Chew. Chew. Chew. Snap. Pop.

He took a deep breath and gathered his resolve. The Minister would be finished with his meeting soon, and he'd be able escape this insufferable young lady and her gum.

Chew. Chew. Snap. Snap. Pop.

Cringe. Really, the girl looked like she was barely out of Hogwarts. Surely she wasn't old enough to be the assistant to the Minister for Magic already? It's a good thing he was who he was. He couldn't imagine what a foreign dignitary would think of the Minister's assistant being so young. Then again, maybe he was overreacting a little.

Chew. Chew. Chew. Snap. Pop.

No. No, he most certainly wasn't overreacting. Not even a touch. He couldn't believe that this sort of behaviour was acceptable for anybody in the Ministry, let alone the Minister's assistant. It was wholly unprofessional, not to mention irritating to the point of inducing a minor rage.

James breathed a sigh of relief when she finally reached forward and took a tissue from the box on the desk, spitting the Merlin-be-damned gum out and throwing it in the bin. A reprieve, finally. A moment of blissful peace. He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the wall to just enjoy the sounds of parchment folding and memos flying and distant conversations from just down the corridor.

Bliss.

Until.

His head snapped up to the sound of rattling coming from the direction of the assistant's desk. There she was, absently taking another one of Charlie Cheldry's sodding torture devices. The seconds felt like minutes as he watched in horror as she raised the piece of gum to her mouth. For the briefest of moments, he seriously considered marching over to the girl and slapping the offending confectionary out of her hand. Using his wand just wouldn't be satisfying enough. Unfortunately, he missed his chance. She began to chew anew, and he found himself cringing preemptively, waiting for the bubble to come.

The door to the office opened and James could almost feel his relief tangibly leaking from his ears. Minister Foster ushered a rather pudgy-looking blond man from the room; Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department for Magical Games and Sports, if his memory served. The man had obviously let himself go since he'd retired - Godric, the man looked like he'd split a broom in twain should he decide to mount one these days.

Bagman practically waddled out of the room towards the door and James sent a very mild tripping jinx at him as he stood to greet the Minister. The jinx barely made Bagman stumble, but it was the little victories in life. The Minister obviously saw what James had done judging by the questioning, though certainly amused, look on his face. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the best first impression to make, really, but for all of his seriousness in his work as a reformist, James was still well known to be a prankster and mischief maker. Out of the gate, he figured that there was no harm in the Minister seeing that first hand.

'He cost me 15 galleons in his last game for the Wasps,' James said by way of explanation, with a mischievous smirk on his face. The Minister laughed and gestured him into the office.

Minister Foster was a taller man than he looked in the few photos James had seen in the Prophet. He stood at maybe six foot three, but for all his height, he looked to have very little weight. It was evident by the obviously tailored suit that he wore that he took care of himself and was conscious of looking professional and well put together, but that same suit still looked like it hung from his thin frame. His black hair was thin, but swept neatly to one side, though the stress of the day could easily be told by the strands of hair that had slipped from the style and were hanging in his face, or sticking up at slightly odd angles - an affliction James was more than familiar with himself.

'My Dad used to tell me that betting is a fool's errand,' he said as he closed the door behind them.

James chuckled in response. 'I confess to being a fool on occasion, and take it from me that your father was absolutely right.'

'He'll be pleased to know,' the Minister smiled as he took a seat at one of the two armchairs at the far end of the room, gesturing James to the other.. 'Mr Potter, I can't tell you how glad I am that you agreed to meet with me today. I've been following your work for years, and it's been a balm for my soul to see Britain actually shaping into a country to be proud of. Truly inspiring work.'

'Well, I've certainly not been doing it all alone, Minister. It's my pleasure to be here. I'm hopeful that over the coming years me and my colleagues can continue to make this country a better, fairer place to live.'

'Please, call me Robert. I've been here since six o'clock and I'm still not used to being called Minister. I suspect that I never will.'

James smiled genially. 'Only if you'll call me James.'

'James it is,' Robert said with a nod. 'Well, I won't beat around the bush. Tomorrow evening, I'll be making a speech in the Atrium, as is the custom for a new Minister, outlining what I aim to achieve over the next seven years, at least. I'll be frank with you by saying that I've invited you here to see if you'd be willing to stand beside me for that speech.'

Though he knew he was here to talk about his work in reform, James certainly wasn't expecting that. More times than he cared to count, people with perceived high-standing in both the Ministry and society on whole had tried to get him to publicly endorse them for no other reason than the boost that would be received from having the 'famous Potter family' on their side. His brow furrowed at the thought, but Robert was quick to continue before James could rebuff the offer.

'I don't want an immediate answer. Please, let me explain myself first and then we'll come back to that. I don't want you to think that I'm asking this of you simply by merit of who you are.' The Minister's hands were raised in supplication and he'd leant forward in his chair as soon as James had looked towards the door. James regarded him for a moment before settling back into the chair with a nod, and Robert was visibly relieved. 'As I've said, your work with The Evans Foundation has helped to give this country a firm and well-needed kick up the arse. I'm incredibly interested in finding out how the Ministry can support you, and indeed work with you, over the course of my time in office - and hopefully further beyond.'

James snorted quietly in slight derision. 'The Ministry not throwing up walls and putting up hoops for us to jump through is a fantastic start.'

'Nothing good comes easily,' Robert mused, 'but there's no reason for your work to be made any harder than is necessary. You know, in the late seventies I met Dahlia Evans at some society fundraiser that my mother had dragged me along to. She spoke to me about the work she did with children and young people, helping them when they weren't in a position to help themselves.

'She was a wonderful woman, and her passion for the work that she did was a source of great inspiration for me, though she never knew it. I think she'd be incredibly proud of the work you've been spearheading in her name with The Evans Foundation, and I'd like to join you in that. I think that tomorrow presents us both with a fantastic opportunity to announce the changes that the British Ministry and The Evans Foundation are going to work together to implement over the coming years.'

James cocked his head in consideration as Robert pressed a rune on the side table between their chairs. The Minister seemed to be perfectly content to wait for him to digest the anecdote and the offer in silence. A house elf in the standard red and black Ministry uniform popped into the room with a tray of hot drinks and placed it between them before popping out again. Robert poured himself a tea as he patiently waited for the verdict, gesturing with the pot towards James who absently shook his head.

Finally, after a few minutes of silent deliberation, James made up his mind. He reached forward for the pot of coffee and poured himself a cup before slowly nodding at Robert. 'I think the Potter family would be proud to attend your speech as your guests, with one condition.'

'What would that be?' the Minister asked curiously.

James lifted his chin and met his gaze confidently. 'I'd like to speak too. After you, of course.'

Robert's eyebrows raised in surprise before a wide smile graced his face. 'I'd be thrilled. Now, we've got about an hour before my next appointment, so tell me: what are you working on now, and what plans do you have for the near future?'

A smile matching the Minister's own grew on James face, and he raised an eyebrow mischievously. 'Why, Minister, I'm so glad you asked.'

-oOo-

Tonight, Harry found himself extremely glad that he wasn't dragged to more of the speeches and functions that his parents often attended. The vast majority of the evening had been extremely boring, hearing Minister Foster and Dad make grand speeches to a crowd of journalists and people who thought of themselves as really quite important. These were the sorts of people that Mum and Dad had made a habit of shielding him and Thea from, and now here they were, sat on the stage in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic with strict instructions to look interested and to be polite as dozens of photographers took uncountable photos of them all. He was beginning to see spots.

About halfway through the Minister's long speech, he'd taken to mentally reciting the lyrics to some of his favourite songs in order to avoid falling asleep. Just last week Padfoot had bought him the Pet Shop Boys' latest LP, and the gift was starting to feel like a real godsend. There was just no way for a ten year old to find impassioned speeches about taxes, foreign citizen programs, and the Wizengamot interesting in any way shape or form.

Dad's speech was a little more interesting as he talked about restricting spells and potions that affected people's minds. Those sounded like something from the comic books he'd been reading, which was cool in a sort of scary way because all of the awful stuff that the villains did in the books could actually happen with magic. He had listened keenly while Dad spoke about werewolves and what people could do to help them - he'd spoken to Uncle Remus a few months ago about the full moon and what he had to go through every month. Making that process easier for him seemed like a worthy cause.

Once the speeches were finished and the Minister had answered some questions from the crowd, they were all ushered off of the stage and through a Floo to a large, fancy ballroom so that the important people could spend more time making themselves feel important by boasting to others about how important they were. It was all very tiresome, Harry thought.

He fidgeted with the collar of his shirt as they were led further into the ballroom, stopping every few feet as some Ministry person or another wanted to congratulate Dad on his speech or talk to Mum about the genealogy tests. That morning, Mum had taken him into town to buy a suit for the occasion. After an hour of being measured and paraded in and out of changing rooms trying on an uncountable number of jackets and matching trousers, they'd landed on a dark grey combo that was just a little too long for him in the leg. The shop assistant had told Mum that he looked handsome. _He'd_ told Mum that the outfit was uncomfortable and itchy.

They stopped at the other side of the room not far from where the Minister's family were standing, waiting patiently as the man tried to wrap up a conversation with some old man or another. Once the old man finally got the message, the Minister ushered his family over to them and made introductions.

'James, I'm glad you decided to come. This is my wife, Esther, and my daughters Anna and Daisy.' He gestured to the girls in turn. Daisy looked to be a little younger than Thea, and was not-so-subtly trying to hide behind her Mum's legs. Anna, on the other hand, was standing straight and proud beside her father. 'Anna has just started her first year at Hogwarts - the Headmaster was kind enough to give her leave until Sunday on account of my win.'

'We wouldn't have missed it,' Dad said smoothly, and Harry consciously kept himself from voicing his disagreement. 'It's a pleasure to meet you, ladies. My wife, Lily Potter, and our kids, Harry and Thea.'

Harry gave a polite smile as Thea waved when Dad introduced her. He masterfully avoided rolling his eyes when Anna narrowed hers at him and seemed to search his forehead. When the adults quickly engaged themselves in a conversation about the evening and the general reaction to their speeches, Anna took up the opportunity to begin an inquisition.

'I thought you wore glasses,' she said without any sort of greeting or preamble, 'and people always say that you have a scar above your eye.'

Next to him, Thea snorted and Anna looked at her in confusion. 'He's never had a scar. People only say that because of those silly books.'

That was true enough. Not long after the inquiry just before he turned seven, some opportunistic wizard had decided to write a series of books called ' _The Adventures of Harry Potter_ ', in which he was told to have done a whole host of ridiculous and impossible things like wrestling with a troll to rescue a girl, and riding out of Gringotts on the back of a dragon to rescue a girl. Come to think of it, they were _all_ about him rescuing a girl. As soon as they found out, Mum and Dad had managed to stop the publication, and even had the author pay a wergild to Harry for using his name and likeness without permission.

In the stories, for some reason, the author had described Harry as having a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. Apparently he had gotten a cut on his head that Halloween night, but it was just from a piece of the roof that had stuck him when the house practically blew up. The character in the books also wore a pair of circular glasses like Dad used to wear before he had some healers correct his eyesight.

'I don't know why those books described me like that. I've never worn glasses either' he explained, in a much more polite tone than Thea had managed. He cocked his head for a moment. 'Well sometimes I wear sunglasses, but that's because Valerian gives me a headache and they help to block out light.'

'Oh,' said Anna, as she screwed up her nose. 'I think you'd look better with glasses. And the scar would have made you look.. I don't know... braver?'

Really, Harry had never thought that he needed to look braver, and he'd much rather be able to see clearly than have to wear glasses. The fact that this complete stranger seemed almost disappointed with him, despite not knowing a thing about him, was just completely bizarre.

'Never mind,' the girl continued, clearly either not knowing or not caring about how rude she was being. 'You're going to Hogwarts next year, aren't you? I'm in Ravenclaw, which is the best house, but I suppose you'll be in Gryffindor like your parents?'

He stared at her for a moment, more than a little bemused. It was quite impressive actually, in the worst sort of way, how she'd managed to insult him, both of his parents, and then him _again_ in the space of a single breath. 'I don't know where I'll be sorted. That's the whole point of the sorting ceremony, isn't it really?'

'I suppose,' she replied indifferently, 'but I've _always_ known I was going to be in Ravenclaw. Mummy was and she homeschooled me, so I know I've had the very best education, same as Daisy.'

'Our Mum is really clever too, _and_ she was nearly sorted into Ravenclaw,' Thea interjected indignantly.

Anna looked down at Thea, shooting her a look that made it perfectly clear what she thought of that, though it didn't stop her from saying it aloud too. 'But she got sorted into Gryffindor in the end, didn't she? Maybe you'll be the odd one out and end up in Hufflepuff - you're definitely defensive enough.' She turned her focus back to Harry. 'You know, it really is a shame about the scar. It would have served you well - _House of the Brave_ and all that,' she said with no small amount of sarcasm.

'I suppose we'll just have to wait and see, won't we? Anything could happen at the sorting,' Harry pointed out, to which she just screwed her nose up again.

'I wouldn't hold out much hope. Looks like the adults are done. See you next year, Godric.' She looked down at Thea, who was rapidly losing her temper. 'Bye Helga.' Anna turned on the spot and walked back to her mother's side, tapping her on the arm incessantly to try and get her attention.

'She's a bitch,' Thea said under her breath, once the girl was out earshot.

Harry looked at her gobsmacked. 'Thea! Where did you even hear that word?'

'Uncle Sirius was talking about somebody to Auntie Aspen. He said it's a bad word for bad people.'

'It is a bad word,' Harry insisted, 'and you shouldn't use it!' He wasn't surprised in the slightest that she'd learned it from Uncle Sirius - that was where he'd learned most of his bad vocabulary too. 'At least, you definitely shouldn't use it around Mum and Dad.'

Thea rolled her eyes at him. 'Obviously. She still is one though.'

Harry looked over the girl again and found her almost dragging her mother away from the conversation she was having towards one of the doors at the back of the ballroom. 'Yeah,' Harry agreed, 'she definitely is.'

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for the wait since the last chapter! This one was a bit of a struggle to get right, but I'm pretty happy with it now, so I hope you enjoy it.

A million thanks again to _Bob49_ and _Proton_ for looking over this chapter for me. There's an amazing community of Harmony shippers over on the HMS Harmony discord, and we'd love to have you join it!

Also, thank you so much to everybody who reads, reviews, comments, and messages. This story has been taken to in a way that I would never have expected it to, and it's really awesome to hear from people that they're enjoying following it.

Peace and love, _amidland_.


	14. The Peverell Artefacts II

_Wednesday 31st July, 1991_

The morning sun had barely even started to make its daily appearance as Harry woke up at five o'clock, so he really had no business being awake already. For a while, he tried desperately to go back to sleep, even if just for another hour or two, but for all of his tossing and turning, his body would not rest. It had been past midnight before he'd managed to get to sleep last night, yet he'd woken up as the first sliver of dawn broke.

By half past six, he'd given up going back to sleep as a bad job and so had opted instead to entertain himself with a bit of reading. As quietly as he could, he crept across his room to his bookshelf and picked out a new favourite book of his: _The Forgotten History of Hogwarts' Founders Four_ by Ottilie Foxley. His excitement to go off to the school was reaching fever pitch and that was going to make his day quite difficult.

Today was his birthday - his _eleventh_ birthday - which meant that a very exciting and important letter would probably already be on its way to his house: his invitation to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not only that, but today also marked the day he'd be able to buy his wand. He was sure that Mum and Dad had plans to take him to Diagon Alley today, too, so they could buy all of the items he'd be needing for when September rolled around.

All of this, of course, meant that Harry Potter was almost vibrating with anticipation, which is where the day's problem lay. For as long as he could remember, there had been a tradition in the house - a challenge of sorts - which was that on a person's birthday, everybody had to pretend that there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about the day at all. The first person to falter in the act, or acknowledge the birthday, had to have a streak of their hair charmed purple for the remainder of the day. It was a completely pointless and silly tradition which meant that it was absolutely perfect for the Potters.

The last two birthdays had been his parents', and Dad had failed almost immediately for both. On Mum's birthday in January, Dad had already been sporting the purple streak by the time he'd come down for breakfast, though neither Mum nor Dad would tell the children how he'd managed it. On Dad's own birthday in March, Harry and Thea had conspired to take the mickey out of him from the get go which resulted in him saying that they weren't allowed to bully him on his birthday.

Harry wasn't very hopeful that Dad would be so forgetful today. The eleventh birthday was one of the most important birthdays in a young wizard or witch's life, so no doubt his family would make it extremely difficult for him to ignore. Not since Thea turned six, more than a year and a half ago, had he worn the purple streak and he was determined not to break that record on his own birthday.

No matter how interesting the Founders book was, the wait for a more reasonable time to get up felt like an entire year. Finally though, at half past eight, he decided it was late enough in the morning to get out of bed, if for no other reason than to satisfy his complaining bladder. Still, he was certainly the first person to get up, so he took his time performing his ablutions before returning to his room to select the most casual clothing he owned from his wardrobe.

As quietly as he could, so as not to disturb anybody, he made his way downstairs and into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water before heading into the living room, figuring that watching the morning cartoons would be a pretty good way to mindlessly spend the time before everybody else in the house got up. Opening the living room door, he found the curtains drawn leaving the room almost completely dark. Walking slowly to make sure that he didn't walk into or trip over anything, he made his way over to the window and pulled open the curtains to let the morning light in.

'Couldn't sleep?' Dad's voice asked from behind him, and Harry nearly lept out of his skin, splashing water all over himself.

'Jesus!' he exclaimed, clutching at his racing heart as he whirled around to find Dad smirking at him from one of the sofas. 'Merlin, Dad, you scared the life out of me.'

Dad grinned. 'Sorry,' he said, though he couldn't have sounded much more insincere if he'd tried. 'What are you doing up already?'

'I woke up needing the toilet,' Harry replied smoothly, all the while cursing that the challenge had started already. He'd hoped to have a bit more time alone before having to deal with his family today. 'I figured that I might as well just come downstairs rather than lying in bed awake for an hour or so.'

'Oh? Trouble getting to sleep?'

Harry turned to fully open the curtains, rolling his eyes once he was facing away. 'Not really, I just wasn't feeling very tired. What are _you_ doing up already?' he asked as he turned back to face Dad, figuring that he'd probably been down here for hours, just waiting. 'Did Mum kick you out of bed again?'

Dad raised an eyebrow at him and Harry smiled innocently. _That's right,_ Harry thought, _two can play this game_. 'No,' Dad replied with feigned disinterest, 'Mum was snoring so I figured I'd sleep better down here.'

'Mmhm. Chronic snorer, Mum is,' Harry smirked. She wasn't.

'Exactly.'

Harry dropped himself down on the sofa that Dad wasn't on. 'I was just going to watch some TV, do you mind?' Dad shook his head, and gestured for him to go ahead. 'I'll have a word with Mum if you want, it's not fair that her snoring is keeping you up.'

Dad's eyes went wide. 'Well, I don't think - really, there's no need for that,' he stammered. 'I can talk to her about it myself.'

'Talk to who about what?' came Mum's sleepy voice from the doorway.

Harry held back a smirk at the look of panic that crossed Dad's face. 'Morning, Mum. Dad was just saying about your snoring keeping him up. You really should see if there's a spell or potion for it.'

'Oh, I'm sorry, love,' Mum said to Dad in a sickly-sweet tone, 'I didn't even know I was snoring.'

_This is going to be the easiest birthday ever_ , Harry thought triumphantly. 'He said you've been snoring chronically,' he chipped in. 'I'm honestly surprised you haven't already spoken about it. It's not fair on Dad that you're keeping him up.'

'I didn't say that!' Dad protested indignantly, shooting a glare at Harry. 'Don't you put words in my mouth!'

'I don't think he could put words in your mouth, considering how often you put your own foot in there,' Mum snarked.

Harry couldn't help but laugh at that. He loved it when Mum helped him gang up on Dad.

Dad ran his hand through his hair and huffed. 'You can shut it,' he said, pointing a finger in Harry's direction. 'And you weren't snoring, Lily, I just -'

'So why were you up early then, Dad, if it wasn't for Mum snoring?'

'I was just - I mean -'

Unfortunately, he was saved from creating a new excuse by Thea skipping past Mum and into the room. 'Morning, Mummy! Morning, Daddy!' she chirped as she practically threw herself onto Dad's lap, eliciting a groan.

'Good morning, princess!' he exclaimed with no small amount of relief. 'Why are you awake at this time?'

Thea frowned at him, her face screwed up in the most perfect display of innocent confusion. 'You told me to get ready for shenanigans.'

'You're such a traitor,' he whispered at her harshly, before sighing heavily and letting his head fall back against the wall. Thea turned and grinned conspiratorially as Mum sat down and Harry shot a cheeky smile at his little sister. A sudden clatter at the door had Dad's head suddenly shooting back up as he looked out towards the hallway. 'The post!' he exclaimed. 'Harry, would you go and grab it for us?'

'Thea's closer,' Harry replied as breezily as he could, all the while trying desperately to tamp down the bubble of excitement that was quickly growing within him, threatening to burst and spill out. Thea shrugged and quickly jumped off of Dad, causing another groan, and then skipped out of the room towards the front door. Ignoring the post was going to be the hardest part of the day, by far.

'Harry!' Thea called from the hallway. 'There's loads here for you!'

'Oh?' he said nonchalantly as she came into the room with a stack of envelopes in hand. 'It's probably just stuff from Gringotts. Chief Torgack said he might get in touch at some point.'

'I don't think so,' said Thea, looking up at him with a glint in her eye as she flicked through all of the envelopes, and suddenly Harry found himself agreeing with Dad - she was a little traitor. 'This one's in Moony's handwriting, and - look! - this one has a big _H_ on the seal! I wonder what that is?' He managed to avoid glaring at her and shrugged despite his racing heart. Thea was far too good at this for a seven year old - it really wasn't fair.

Mum reached out to take the letters before he could. 'Let's see then,' she said, and Harry's heart sank. He could easily deal with Dad, and could just about ignore Thea, but he'd never managed to avoid Mum's baiting. 'Looks like this one's from Neville.' She showed him an envelope addressed to him, definitely in his friend's handwriting, and he gulped.

'Probably just thanking me for the card I sent him yesterday.'

She nodded as she got to the last of the seven envelopes and flipped it to reveal the Hogwarts seal. Harry reached out for his drink and took a slow sip, trying not to stare as Mum inspected the envelope carefully. After a full minute she pulled out her wand and pointed it at her head. ' _Crinus Muto,_ ' she cast and a streak at the front of her hair turned purple at the roots before spreading down to the ends. With a smile, she handed the letters to him. 'Happy Birthday, Harry.'

'Happy Birthday!' Thea and Dad chorused as he clutched at the Hogwarts letter before quickly tearing it open and pulling out the two pieces of parchment from within.

-o-

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL** _ **of**_ **WITCHCRAFT** _ **and**_ **WIZARDRY  
** Headmaster: Master Albus Dumbledore  
( _Master of Transfiguration, Order of Merlin First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
_ _Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than Sunday 25th August._

_Yours sincerely,  
_ _Minerva McGonagall  
_ _Deputy Headmistress_

-o-

Harry looked up at his parents with a beaming smile, and they looked back at him with looks of pure pride. In front of him, Thea was practically bouncing in her own excitement. 'Can I read it?' she asked desperately, and he handed it over to her. Her eyes quickly became glued to the page as she drank in the words. 'Oh, I can't _wait_ until I get my letter!' she moaned as she finished.

'Only a few more years, squirt,' he said sympathetically and she looked at him like he'd just sprouted two heads.

'Only?!'

Mum shook her head fondly at her daughter's antics and gently took the second piece of parchment - the equipment and book list - from Harry's hands, scanning through it quickly. 'Do you want to open presents before or after we go to Diagon Alley?' she asked as she handed him back the parchment.

He spent barely a moment considering the question. 'After,' he said decisively. 'I can't wait.' At that moment, his stomach rumbled loudly.

'Well you'll have to wait at least a little while,' Dad laughed. 'I think you need breakfast first.'

-oOo-

Harry had never liked shopping; grocery shopping was boring and clothes shopping was tedious, though he supposed that shopping for new toys and things like that was alright. This morning, though, he was looking forward to a shopping trip like he never had before.

Their house wasn't connected to the Floo network because his and Thea's friends would sometimes stop over for sleepovers, or just to come and spend time together while the parents nattered away over a cup of tea, so the family had to pile into the car for an hour and a half drive into London. It was a drive they made fairly regularly and usually he and Thea just went to sleep to pass the time. Today, though, he was so excited that he couldn't even think about going to sleep. Instead he stared out of the window watching the scenery zoom past, feeling every single second of the journey.

After what felt like a whole day of travelling, they finally made it to London and parked up a short walk away from Charing Cross Road where the Leaky Cauldron and the entrance to Diagon Alley was situated. Walking through the pub was an exercise in restraint for Harry, who was tempted beyond belief to roll his eyes at the attention they garnered; as was always the case whenever the Potters were seen in public in the Wizarding world, people would stop and stare, whispering to one another behind their hands while furiously trying to direct the attention of whoever they were with. One woman at the edge of the room turned to point them out to her friend so quickly that she knocked her drink and spilled it across the table.

He absently wondered if these people thought that they were being discreet with all of their pointing and murmuring. If they did then they were in for a world of disappointment.

Entering the Alley was no different, but even the numerous clusters of prying busybodies couldn't take the spring out of Harry's step. Of course, he'd been down Diagon Alley before so the crooked shops that lined the cobbled lane weren't unfamiliar to him, but today they were to be explored solely for _him_ rather than just popping in to collect this potions ingredient for Mum or that broom polish for Dad.

With the exception of all the eyes currently following them as they walked further into Britain's largest magical enclave, Harry thought the atmosphere was electric. The air in the Alley felt positively static, though that might well have been the breeze brushing the hair that was standing up on his arms and the back of his neck - _God_ , he was so excited that he had goosebumps. A veritable orchestra reverberated through the area; sounds of people talking and children laughing and street peddlers harking out their best offers and prices. A musician played a lyre and sung of Brandon the Brave's legendary duel and the birds of _Eeylops Owl Emporium_ just a bit further down seemed to hoot along with the verse.

Their first stop for the day was to be _Potage's Cauldron Shop_. A brightly painted sign in the window described the wares it sold: cauldrons of all sizes, metals and varieties from big and bronze to small and silver, with everything in between available too. There they bought a run-of-the-mill pewter cauldron in standard size two and a set of glass phials of varying sizes, as well as a much smaller standard size one-quarter cauldron made of nickel that both Mum and Dad agreed might be useful.

Just next door was _Slug and Jiggers Apothecary_ where Mum helped him select a wide variety of potions ingredients. He found himself extremely thankful to have her there because the shop smelled absolutely rancid and he didn't want to spend any more time than necessary inside it. Some of the ingredients she selected, like the Moondew petals, weren't even on his list but she assured him that they'd be good to have anyway. While there they also bought two pairs of protective gloves made from the skin of Haemian Garter snakes, which apparently provided as much protection as dragon hide but was lighter and more flexible.

After leaving there Harry was practically dragged past _Flourish and Blotts Bookshop_ , much to his chagrin (' _We'll go in there later,' Dad had declared authoritatively_ ), and into _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_ where he was fitted for first-years' Hogwarts robes of which they bought three sets as well as a thick winter coat and a black pointed hat. Wizarding hats looked truly ridiculous, in his opinion, like something that a wicked witch would wear in a Muggle children's fairy tale, but they were compulsory formal wear for the feasts at Hogwarts.

On their way to their next stop, _Hayter & Hayter's Assorted Instruments_, he was dragged past yet another shop: _Quality Quidditch Supplies_. That shop was a favourite of his, though he'd only been inside a couple of times. At the window stood a small crowd of kids not much older than himself staring wistfully at the shop's newest ware: the just-released _Nimbus Two-Thousand_. It was the biggest news in the broomstick world and had been given two double-page spreads in all three of the most recent editions of the _Quidditch This Week_ magazine.

'It's the fastest broom ever!' he heard one of the boys tell nobody in particular. It pushed seventy-three miles an hour, in fact, nearly seven miles an hour more than the _Cleansweep Six_ , which had been the fastest for the last two years since its release.

'I heard that it did the Eyam Dash in twenty-nine seconds!' said a girl that Harry couldn't see. Actually, that one wasn't true - it had actually completed the Eyam Dash in twenty- _eight_ seconds, shattering the previous record of thirty-four.

Unfortunately, he didn't get the chance to hear the crowd wax lyrical about more of the broom's statistics or achievements as Mum placed a firm hand on his shoulder and ushered him away. His mind was still whirring about it, though, as they bought an extendable telescope and a set of brass scales from _Hayters'_.

His attention was successfully pulled away from the Nimbus when they entered _Eeylops_. Mum and Dad had given him his choice of pet (though they had recommended against a toad), and he found himself drawn to the utility of an owl. The outlet was well named for it certainly was an emporium rather than just a mere shop. Where, from the outside, it had looked like any other establishment in terms of size and decor, the inside seemed like one impossibly large room. The ceiling was so high up that Harry almost had to lean backwards to see it all, and it felt like he'd run out of breath before he could run to the back wall if he was so inclined to try.

Dozens and dozens of owls perched wherever there was an available space: on several hand-crafted perches dotted here and there, atop crossbeams like they were the branches of trees, atop crossbeams that were _shaped_ like the branches of trees, on shelves, on window-ledges, everywhere! And in all colours and sizes too! There were big tawny owls, tiny grey owls, regal looking black owls. A pretty looking screech owl on a shelf behind the desk stretched out its huge wingspan, disturbing a napping little scops owl in the process.

As he spun around admiring all of the majestic birds, he noticed a set of wide brown eyes staring directly at him from high above. He met the gaze to find the most beautiful looking snowy owl he'd ever seen regarding him unblinkingly. Its plumage was stunningly white without a speck of any other colour and nary a feather out of place. His eyes moved up to meet its gaze again, and even from as far as he was, he could see hints of great intelligence and pride in its eyes.

The owl blinked finally and puffed up its chest importantly, and Harry grinned widely. With no doubt in his mind he raised his arm in front of him as an offering and watched as the owl cocked its head slightly before leaping from its crossbeam and swooping down to land on his forearm.

'Hello,' he whispered reverently, 'I'm Harry,' and the owl chirped at him as though returning his greeting.

'A right beauty, that one, en't she Mr. Pottah?' asked the shopkeeper, who Harry hadn't even noticed was watching him alongside his family. 'And she dun't come down from there very of'en, either. As a matter o' fact, I reckon you're only the second person she's ever come down for at all.'

Harry smiled as the owl seemed to puff her chest up again at the praise. 'Who was the first?' he asked the shopkeeper.

'A young girl, prob'ly 'bout your age with righ' curly hair. Came in here a couple o' weeks ago. Di'nt end up getting anything in the end, but took to that there bird. Called her Hedwig, if I remember rightly.'

'Hedwig,' Harry echoed softly. 'That's a good name. Dignified. Proper. What do you think?' he asked of the owl, who chirped again in clear agreement.

'Well that settles it then,' said Mum. 'We'll need a nice cage and some food for Hedwig.'

There were only two shops left to visit after they left _Eeylops_ with Hedwig and her things, and it was traditional to get your wand last so it was finally time for Harry to visit _Flourish and Blotts Bookshop_ , which would easily be the second best part of the whole trip. Dad placed a hand on his shoulder and stopped him from entering just as they reached the door. 'Bookshop ground rules,' he said and Harry sighed.

The bookshop ground rules were something that he'd had to abide by for years now, and it looked like he wasn't going to get a free pass on his birthday either. Every time Harry entered a bookshop, he was given a time limit and a spending limit, and if he went over either of them, the excess would be taken off of his next trip.

Dad checked his wristwatch before looking him in the eye. 'I'll let you get away with going over time last month because it's your birthday, but we've got to get to Ollivanders and then home in time for dinner so you can't go over today. Forty-five minutes-' Harry groaned despairingly but Dad didn't relent. 'Forty-five minutes and ten galleons on top of your Hogwarts book list. Does that sound fair?'

Ten galleons was quite a bit more than he usually was allowed to spend which did slightly soften the blow of the short time limit, but then again he'd not have a lot of time to figure out what to spend them on. 'Can we at least make it an hour?' he asked, quickly adding on a 'Please?' when Dad raised his eyebrow at him.

Dad pretended to think about it for a moment. 'I suppose it is your birthday...' he drawled, then smiled at the hopeful expression on Harry's face. 'An hour,' he agreed. 'No more, though.'

Harry nodded enthusiastically and sped into the shop, ignoring Dad's comment of 'He's definitely _your_ son,' to Mum.

Helpfully, Flourish and Blotts always had a couple of shelves reserved for the Hogwarts book lists once they were sent out, so that part was just a matter of finding the first year texts on the shelves.

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk, check.  
 _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot, already got at home ( _signed_ ).  
 _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling, check.  
 _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch, check.  
 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore, check.  
 _Magical Draughts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger, check.  
 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander, already got.  
 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble, check.

He checked the clock that was hung above the counter and found that he'd already been in here for five minutes. It was a good thing Dad had agreed to give him longer. With his book list taken care of, it was time to search the shelves for some new additions to his ever-growing collection. The first he found was the new edition of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ by Kennilworthy Whisp. He already owned the 1987 print, but apparently this one had more details and stories about some of teams that were no longer in the League, and Whisp had also managed to uncover some long-forgotten rules from before the fifteenth century.

After that came _A Runic Retrospective_ by Frederick Linnaues, which detailed how magic used to be cast using runes and how Elder Futhark had come to evolve into the modern Aolvdarnic script that was most commonly used today. He wouldn't be able to study runes at Hogwarts until his third year, but that didn't mean he couldn't do some reading on the subject beforehand.

_The Animal Spirit_ by Amytis Daniel was the next book he chose. Practically every adult in his life had forbidden him from even attempting to begin the Animagus process until he was at least into his fourth year, after which time he'd be allowed to pursue it under the watchful eye of Aunt Minerva, but he figured they'd all be okay with him reading this book. He flicked through it quickly and it didn't seem to detail or even describe the process itself at all. It was just a collection of accounts as to how different animals awakened different instincts, behaviours, and senses in the Animagus after they'd completed the process.

Checking the time again, Harry found he had five minutes and two galleons left to get one last book, and quickly settled on one he'd seen upstairs earlier: _Why I Didn't Die When the Augurey Cried_ by Matt Larona which was a relatively short but fascinating looking book about the Auguery's cry and the history behind it being an omen of death.

With his time almost up he raced back down the bookshop's spiral staircase and practically skidded to a stop in front of the counter where Dad was standing and theatrically watching his watch.

'Thirty seconds early,' Dad said with a smirk and helped him haul the books onto the counter in front of Mr Flourish, the owner of the shop, who was knowingly chuckling at their antics. Far too soon, they were leaving the bookshop, with Harry the owner of ten new books, and making their way back up Diagon Alley towards _Ollivanders_.

The wandmaker's shop stood out in the Alley like no other, paradoxically because it was so nondescript. Unlike pretty much every other shop in sight, there were no signs or boards of any kind advertising offers or the wares that were offered - the shop and its name spoke for themselves. The paint on the wood seemed to be in a permanent state of very nearly peeling and behind the slightly dirty and dusty window a single wand lay on a plush purple cushion as though reverently placed there.

Other than that, the only thing that would indicate to an outsider that this was the wandmaker's shop was the gold lettering hand painted above the door that read ' _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 328 B.C._ '

A small bell tinkled as they opened the door to enter, though it was almost certainly unneeded as the heavy, old oak door that permitted them entry creaked so long and loudly that it could probably rouse a sleeping deaf man. Harry had thought that the air outside had felt statically charged when they had entered the Alley earlier in the day but he was completely wrong. The wand shop was tiny - it felt really very cramped with just the four Potters in here - but the ambient magic in the air was palpable and could have filled up the room two or three times over. Never had he been _anywhere_ that felt as magical as this, and he doubted that he ever would again.

'Harry Potter,' a soft yet clearly aged voice spoke from the corner of the room where there was a small aisle between stacks and stacks of long, narrow boxes. In the entrance to the aisle stood a thin, elderly man whose presence was much, much larger than he was himself.

Mr Ollivander, for it could only have been him, wore plain grey robes and a pair of spectacles which hung from a string around his neck. His wrinkled old fingers looked impossibly long and were covered in tiny little scars, probably from splinters or the tools he might use to craft his wands. His wide eyes were of the palest shade of blue Harry had ever seen which was somewhat eerie when paired with his slightly clouded pupils. Despite that, there was no doubt that the mind behind those eyes was as sharp and intelligent as any wizard could possibly be.

He continued in a voice so soft that Harry would have had to strain to hear it in any larger a room. 'I was wondering when I'd be seeing you. Of course, it couldn't be any other day than today, could it?'

Before Harry had even begun to _start_ solving that riddle of a question, no matter how rhetorical it was, Mr Ollivander had spun around with surprising agility for a man his age and was already running his fingers across the fronts of wand boxes, murmuring to himself as he went, 'No... No... Definitely not... Hmm... No, I shouldn't think so...' until he finally landed on an, 'Ah, perhaps,' and carefully withdrew it from its place in a wall of other identical looking boxes.

'Eleven inches, same as your father's. Elm with unicorn tail hair. Slightly springy.' He opened the box and offered the wand within to Harry who reached out carefully. Before he could touch the wand though, Mr Ollivander snatched it back quickly, making him jump, and looked at him with a piercing gaze. 'You are right-handed, yes?' Harry nodded hesitantly. 'Good. Good, well go on then,' said he, putting the wand before him once more.

Harry slowly took the wand out of its box and immediately frowned. It felt wrong in his hand, clunky almost, as though it were somehow too thick and too thin at the same time - too short but far too long. Mr Ollivander plucked it from his grip before he'd even had time to give it the slightest of waves.

'No. No, I thought - maybe, but obviously not,' he muttered and turned back around to his stacks. Once again he ran his fingers along the assorted wand boxes, muttering disagreeably at almost all of them as he went. 'This one, possibly?' he decided after a while and presented a new box. 'Apple and dragon heartstring.'

This one felt much better in his hand, but still not quite _right_. 'Well, give it a wave,' Mr Ollivander encouraged and Harry hesitantly did so. Nothing happened. The wand was promptly snatched from his hand by Mr Ollivander with a shake of his head before he could give it another go. The old man quickly plucked another box from the piles and opened it before him. 'Ebony and phoenix feather?'

He picked it up and admired it for a moment. It was beautifully crafted. Its handle was carved with an intricate spiral that tapered off about three inches up its crooked length. Just as he adjusted his grip to brandish it, it too was taken from his hand. 'Better,' mused the wandsmith. 'Much better, but not quite right. No matter, we'll find you the right one soon enough.'

That statement proved to be arguable. As the number of wands he tried rose and rose, Harry started thinking that "soon enough" couldn't come _soon enough_. After almost half an hour and so many wands that he had long since lost count, Mr Ollivander finally stopped his searching and stared at a wandbox right at the back of his stacks. 'I wonder...' he mumbled ominously, before hastily withdrawing the box from where it was buried and rushing back to where Harry was standing with the rest of his family.

The old man looked him in the eyes searchingly, his unbridled curiosity clear in his gaze. 'Eleven inches,' he near-whispered. 'Supple. Holly and phoenix feather.' The wand was practically forced into his hand and the second he closed his fingers around the handle a sudden warmth rushed through his hand and into his arm. Harry smiled suddenly. He raised the wand above his head and waved it, causing two streams of colour to fly out of the tip: one stream of onyx and silver sparks spiralled and danced around another set of azure and bronze.

'Curious,' muttered Mr Ollivander. 'Yes, very curious indeed.'

Harry cocked his head at the wandsmith. 'Sorry, Mr Ollivander,' he said hesitantly, 'but _what's_ curious?'

The man cocked an eyebrow. 'I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. Yes, every single one.' He nodded as he spoke. 'It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave one other. Just one. Most curious indeed, then, that that wand chose you when its brother - why, it's brother struck you down as an infant.'

Harry's eyes darted down to the wand in his hand. 'You mean - this phoenix's feather was in Voldemort's wand?'

Mr Ollivander flinched at the name but nodded nonetheless, though his eyes never left the wand. 'Indeed.' In the silence that followed, Harry found himself turning to his parents to figure out their reactions, but they too were staring at the wand curiously. Finally, Mr Ollivander seemed to snap out of his ruminations and cleared his throat. 'Seven galleons for that one,' he announced, and Dad shook his head as though to clear his thoughts before fishing the coins out of his pocket, counting and handing them over.

As they left the shop, a shiver trickled down Harry's spine, stopping him in his tracks just as he reached for the door. 'Mr Ollivander?' he asked, turning back to face into the shop with furrowed brows.

The wandsmith looked at him questioningly. 'Hmm?'

'Do you still use silver lime wood for your wands?'

Mr Ollivander blinked at him, clearly surprised at the question. 'Silver lime? Well, no, I've never used it all. My father used to - it was in high demand back then.' His brows lowered. 'Why do you ask?'

'You should get some before next year,' Harry informed him, though he didn't really know why. 'You'll only need enough for one wand, though.'

'I see,' came Mr Ollivander's reply, though Harry rather thought he didn't.

Harry smiled. 'Well, have a good day,' he said before turning to follow his family out of the shop.

-oOo-

By the time they'd finished dinner and desert Harry was feeling really quite tired. He'd been awake for most of the day, having not slept much the night before anyway, and all of his excitement and energy from the trip to Diagon Alley was finally catching up to him.

It had been almost six in the evening by the time they'd gotten home, and everybody had agreed to have a slightly later than normal dinner so that Harry could open his presents. He had, of course, received a few more books - both Muggle and magical - from various friends and extended family members, raising his total number of new books to fourteen. Padfoot had bought him a new watch while Moony had given him a handwritten journal detailing some of the Marauders' more harmless hijinks at Hogwarts. There was also an invitation from the Minister himself for Harry to go and visit some of the Ministry's archives the following summer, which was particularly exciting.

Mum and Dad had gotten him a concealed wand holster which had made him wonder why they thought he'd need to conceal his wand. It took the form of a thin strip of leather which looked like an innocuous but fashionable bracelet. He supposed it meant he could carry his wand in the Muggle world, though quite why he'd need to when he couldn't do magic outside of school until he was seventeen was beyond him.

In his hands now was one of the best presents he figured he'd ever receive. Dad had handed down to him the Potter family Invisibility Cloak, telling him the Tale of the Three Brothers - the true version - and saying that he trusted Harry to be responsible with it and treat it with the proper amount of respect. It was such an overwhelmingly impressive and important magical artefact that he couldn't imagine treating it with anything less than reverence.

He yawned as he ran his fingers over the thin, silk-like material for the hundredth time since it had been given to him. It felt unlike anything he'd ever known; not because of the material itself, per se, but because of the weight of the responsibility he was entrusted with and the sheer amount of magic that the cloak must be enchanted with. If it even was enchanted at all. Merlin only knew how Death's magic worked.

A knock on the front door broke him free of his thoughts and Mum got up to see who it was. The sound of a muffled voice carried into the room, but Harry couldn't recognise its owner through the wall. Thankfully he didn't need to wait very long to find out as Dumbledore followed Mum back into the room a moment later. Immediately Harry sat up in interest - the Headmaster very rarely came round but when he did, he almost always had an interesting story or piece of information to impart upon Harry.

'Good evening everyone, and Happy Birthday, Harry,' the learned old man said with a smile. 'I thought I'd deliver my present to you in person.'

Harry was surprised. It wasn't the first time he'd received a present from Dumbledore, but it certainly wasn't a regular occurrence. 'Thank you sir, but you didn't have to get me anything.'

'Ah, but in this case I did,' came the cryptic reply. Dumbledore crossed the room and sat on the sofa beside him. 'Almost ten years ago I made a promise to your father. One which I intend to keep today.'

The Headmaster's gaze dropped to the cloak in Harry's lap and he smiled. 'Have your parents told you the Tale of the Three Brothers?' he asked, and Harry nodded.

'Both the fairytale and the real story.'

'I believe, then, that my present will need very little introduction.' Without pause he pulled his wand from his sleeve. Harry expected him to pull something else out of a pocket to enlarge or something, but just ended up confused when Dumbledore simply rested his wand on his open hands. 'I have held this wand since 1945.'

That stirred a memory in Harry's mind. 'When you defeated Grindelwald, sir?'

'Yes,' he confirmed. 'It was in his possession for a while before I took it from him, but it wasn't his first wand in much the same way that it wasn't mine. He stole it from the German wandmaker Mykew Gregorovitch sometime between 1900 and 1912, though the exact year has eluded me despite my research over the years. Gregorovitch himself had found himself in possession of it somewhat accidentally in the late 1800s; again, exactly when and who he took possession from is unclear.

'This wand is not loyal to any one witch or wizard, Harry. It passes from hand to hand, often by violent force. Its possession is not a burden I would wish upon anybody but, alas, I have it on good authority that the burden is not mine to carry any longer.' Dumbledore lowered his head and peered over his half-moon spectacles at Harry. 'Do you know which wand this is?' he asked seriously.

Of course he did; he had cottoned on as soon as the Headmaster had begun explaining its various owners, the story of the Peverell brothers still fresh in his mind from that afternoon. He gulped noisily before answering quietly. 'The Elder Wand.'

Dumbledore looked at him in a somewhat proud manner, though Harry rather felt like he hadn't earned such a look. The answer had been all but spelled out for him. 'All those years ago, though you won't remember, Death told your parents that the Peverells' artefacts - the so-called Deathly Hallows - were tied to the Master of Death. I won't be given a much better authority on the matter than that, so I believe that since you're now of an age where you may own a wand, it's time for me to pass this on to you.'

In a manner that was oddly reminiscent of Mr Ollivander's earlier that day, Dumbledore shifted his hold on the wand and presented it, handle first, for Harry to take from him. He reached out, more apprehensively than he had for any of Mr Ollivander's wands, and closed his grip around its handle.

In an instant, the hair on Harry's neck and arms stood on end and his vision went black as from the wand's tip erupted those same black and silver sparks as had done from his own in the wandmaker's shop. The knowledge of the wand's recent history flooded into his mind.

'1872,' he gasped as his vision returned to normal. Dumbledore was regarding him curiously, and he hastened to explain himself while also trying to catch his breath. 'When Gregorovitch took ownership of the wand. A wizard took it from the last Master of Death's grave and, not knowing what it was, sold it to Gregorovitch in 1872. Grindelwald then stole it from his shop in 1907.'

A smile grew on Dumbledore's face showing his evident pleasure at having this gap in his knowledge filled. The smile, though, soon turned into a slightly troubled frown at Harry's next question.

'Sir, do you know where the Resurrection Stone is?'

'I don't,' the old man admitted, 'though not for lack of trying to find it. There are very few rumours about its location, and even fewer facts that support what few rumours there are.'

Harry hummed thoughtfully. 'I'm sure it'll turn up at some point. That seems to be the way things go around me.'

Dumbledore chuckled as Mum who, along with Dad on the other sofa, shook her head and rolled her eyes at his blithe attitude.

'That does seem to be the case, doesn't it?' agreed the Headmaster mirthfully.

* * *

**A/N:** Phewww-y. That _was_ a long one, huh? Terribly sorry about the long wait since the last chapter, I really needed to get bits of this one right and it took a little doing.

Huge thanks to _Ewind_ from the HMS Harmony Discord server for giving this a look over for me. If you're looking for somewhere to talk about all things Harry/Hermione then you should join us on the server! We'd love to have you.

As ever, if you notice any mistakes or inconsistencies in this chapter, or indeed any others, please do let me know!

Thanks so much for reading, as well as commenting, reviewing and messaging me with your thoughts about the story so far. I'll see you soon for _Chapter Fifteen: The Raven's Daughter_.

Take care, _amidland_.


	15. The Raven's Daughter

**Chapter Fifteen - The Raven's Daughter**

_Sunday 1st September, 1991_

After years of anticipation, the day had finally arrived. Today was the day that Harry would finally go to Hogwarts. For as long as he could remember, he'd been hearing stories about the magical school - hidden hallways, the wondrous library, the Quidditch cup, feasts in the Great Hall, pranks and mischief. Based solely on all the things he'd been told by his family, he sometimes felt like he must already have known the castle better than any of the current students. Other times, his imagination and the tales that fuelled it proved entirely inadequate, and he felt like he knew absolutely nothing about Hogwarts at all.

Either way, everything would change today. Harry woke up at five o'clock in the morning and, in a manner much similar to his birthday a month ago, found himself far too excited to go back to sleep. On his birthday, he had read a book to pass the time until everybody else in the house woke up. That option wasn't available to him today, though, as almost all of his books (certainly, all of the books he could want to read) were already neatly packed into his school trunk. Anyway, even if they weren't, he didn't think that he'd be able to sit still long enough to read more than a handful of sentences at a time.

He got up and pulled on the clothes he had laid out for himself the night before. Again, almost all of his other clothes were packed away already. They'd be driving into London as usual and passing through the Muggle entrance to platform nine and three-quarters, so he'd selected a pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt to wear - almost everybody changed into their school robes on the train anyway.

Checking the time, he found that only two minutes had passed since he had last looked. In an effort to busy himself, he grabbed his Hogwarts equipment list from his bedside table and ran through it yet again to make sure that he hadn't missed anything the last hundred times he'd checked. He hadn't. Hedwig was already shut securely in her cage, there were no more books on his bookshelf that he wanted to bring with him. His holly wand was on his bedside table next to the watch that Padfoot had given him for his birthday while the Elder Wand was already hidden within the concealed wand holster on his wrist. The Invisibility Cloak was safely buried at the bottom of his trunk with the golden cup from Gringotts.

With nothing left to check, Harry settled on pacing the length of his room to pass the time. His mind raced in his excitement. This time tomorrow he'd be inside the castle, asleep in the bed of his house dormitories. He'd know which house he'd been placed in by the Sorting Hat. At the moment, he didn't really have a preference for which house he'd like to end up in. Maybe not Slytherin, but all of the others held an equal appeal.

Almost all of his family had been sorted into Gryffindor, and that was where many people expected him to end up. Neville seemed sure that he'd be sorted into Hufflepuff like his mum had been, and it'd definitely be nice to be sorted with him; they'd been raised more as brothers than friends, so it'd be cool to stay together. Auntie Aspen had been sorted into Ravenclaw and Harry had to admit that the house of the wise seemed to intrigue him the most. Apparently, the Ravenclaw common room had its own small library filled with books that weren't even available in the main one.

Having spent countless hours over the last several years weighing up the benefits of each, Harry decided that he'd really be quite happy in any of the three. He hoped that he'd get along well with his classmates regardless of which house he was sorted into, though the idea of having to make new friends was a bit depressing.

All of his friends from primary school were moving up into the local village college, and he'd only see them now in the summers after having spent the majority of the year on opposite ends of the country. Mum had suggested that he write to them and he definitely would, but he didn't think that Ben and Alex, who had been two of his best friends for years, would be very interested in writing to him when they could still hang around with each other. He held a higher hope for Sarah, who he knew already wrote to a pen pal in Cardiff. She hadn't found it as easy to make friends as the boys had, so he hoped that she'd be okay joining the secondary school.

After two hours of alternating between pacing and sitting on the edge of his bed fidgeting, the sounds of movement from Mum and Dad's room next door finally gave Harry the reprieve he'd been waiting for. The most exciting day of his life was, at long last, about to begin.

-oOo-

If the drive into London on his birthday had felt like hours, the journey to King's Cross today had taken a whole lifetime. Finally, though, they reached the station at half past ten. Dad hauled Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage out of the boot of the car and onto a trolley, wheeling them into the station for him since he couldn't see over the pile to steer.

The railway station was packed with people going about their ordinary lives - from the well-dressed business people rushing about trying to catch their trains to the tourists milling about and walking too slowly, getting in everybody's way. As they neared platforms nine and ten, Harry found himself somewhat surprised that he hadn't seen any other families pushing around trolleys with large trunks and owls anywhere. Though he knew that platform nine and three-quarters was magically hidden away, he thought that perhaps he'd have seen at least _some_ other people coming to the Muggle entrance. Since the Floos had been installed on the platform a couple of years ago, that was how the majority of Wizarding families now travelled there, but obviously that wasn't an option for Muggle-borns and those, like the Potters, who didn't have a Floo connection in their house.

A metal barrier separating platforms nine and ten marked the Muggle entrance to the secret magical platform - access to which was gained by walking directly at and _through_ the barrier. Mum took Thea through the barrier first as she was too young to go through alone, and then he and Dad would follow after them with the trolley.

He hesitated for a moment. _Hogwarts: A History_ said that it was often easier to pass through at a jog or a run, but that didn't make things any easier. Running directly at a seemingly solid barrier just felt completely unnatural. Dad smiled at him knowingly and placed an arm around his shoulders.

'Best not to overthink it. Come on, we'll do it together. That way, if it doesn't work we'll look like prats together,' Dad joked.

Harry took a deep breath and nodded determinedly. Together, they jogged towards the barrier. He squeezed his eyes shut just as they were about to crash, but didn't slow down.

Any second now... he braced... but the impact never came.

He opened his eyes to see a brilliant scarlet steam engine waiting on the tracks beside a platform; emblazoned on its side were the words _Hogwarts Express_. Looking behind him, where the metal barrier had been now stood a wrought iron archway, through which he could still see everyday people, completely ignorant of the fact that they were walking directly past a whole extra platform.

Thick plumes of white smoke billowed from the engine and drifted overtop the heads of the collected crowd of families seeing off their children and siblings. Cats of various sizes and colours darted around, winding their way between people's legs, over trunks and trolleys, onto and off of the train. More owls than he'd ever seen gathered in one place were singing a chorus, whether hooting at one another or just for the sake of it, he didn't know.

They had arrived twenty minutes early but a number of the train carriages were already packed with students, some in uniform, some not. Some were hanging out of the windows of their compartments bidding farewells to their families, while some were laughing and joking with their friends inside, sharing stories from the summer or fighting over who was to sit where for the journey.

'Hey, Harry! Over here!' called a voice from his left, which he recognised as belonging to Neville. Harry turned his head towards his brother in all but blood and grinned widely as the Longbottoms approached.

'Layla!' Thea exclaimed gleefully when she laid eyes on her best friend and rushed forward to embrace the littlest Longbottom.

As soon as he was within arm's reach, Neville's dad ruffled Harry's hair with a smile. 'Hullo, Harry. Excited to finally be going?'

'Can't wait,' Harry agreed eagerly. 'Hiya mate, you alright?' he asked as he embraced the other boy.

Neville clapped him on the back before pulling away. 'I can't decide whether to be excited or nervous, so I'm doing both at the same time, I think,' he admitted as he ran a hand through his fair blond hair. That was a habit he'd picked up from Harry years ago - both sets of parents liked to laugh at them for doing it because they'd often do it at the same time.

Dad laughed at Neville's admission. 'That's understandable. I think it's about time we got you both on the train, isn't it?'

'Actually,' Harry said with a slight frown, 'I think I'll wait here for a minute. You can go ahead though, Nev. Maybe find us an empty compartment somewhere?'

'We can do that,' Uncle Frank agreed on Neville's behalf. 'I'll take your trunk if you want, Harry. Saves you the job of hauling it on yourself.'

Harry smiled appreciatively. 'Thanks, Uncle Frank.'

Uncle Frank grabbed the boys' trunks and Neville picked up the cages for both Hedwig and Lena, the little scops owl that he'd had been given as a present from his Gran on his birthday. Auntie Alice and Layla followed after them to bid Neville their farewells once everything had been taken aboard the train.

'So what are you waiting for, exactly?' Dad asked once they were alone again.

Frowning in thought, Harry shook his head slightly. 'I don't know yet,' he admitted, 'but there's definitely something important -'

'Mrs Potter!' interrupted a girl's voice from the direction of the archway. The owner of voice soon came into view, speed-walking towards them. Or rather, towards Mum. 'Mrs Potter, I'm so glad I got to see you! I really wanted to thank you again for all of your help and your letters. We've visited Diagon Alley six times since you showed us around. I'm pretty sure that Mr Flourish knows me by name already with the amount of time I've spent in his shop!'

It was impressive, thought Harry, that anybody could say so much in the space of a single breath. Eventually, the girl did have to pause, and Mum stepped in before she could start up all over again.

'Hermione, it's nice to see you too,' Mum greeted the girl, placing a hand on her shoulder. 'Where are your parents? You've not come through alone have you?'

She shook her head, sending her mane of curly brown hair flying in every which direction. 'No, they came with me. I sort of left them behind when I saw you,' she admitted sheepishly.

As the girl spoke, Harry wondered why her name rang a bell in his mind... Hermione... After a moment's thought, he figured it out. Mum had sent letters back and forth with her occasionally over the last few years - she was a Muggle-born and was coming to Hogwarts this year too. From what he could remember, Mum had said that she read even more than he did, which seemed pretty unlikely to be honest. She was still talking when he tuned back into the conversation -

'- and I couldn't believe it! I'd read the book that you wrote about creating the test - though some parts were a bit difficult to understand - so I knew that there was a chance, but even so! The witch that processed my results said that I was the first known daughter of the Ravenclaw line in almost three hundred years!'

In an instant, something inside Harry seemed to _snap_ into place. Hermione's words echoed in his mind.

... _first known daughter of the Ravenclaw line_ ... _daughter of Ravenclaw_ ...

 _The Raven's daughter_.

Oh.

Harry's vision dimmed slightly, and the two threads that he'd become very accustomed to over the course of his life slowly came into view. That familiar pure white thread led off to a destination unknown as it always had, connecting him with somebody important, though he still didn't know who. The other thread though - for the first time in his life he could see the end of it, see who it connected him to. He'd always suspected that it was attached to the Raven's daughter because it had only appeared after he'd first dreamt about her, but here was the proof.

The first time he had seen the thread, it had been so very thin and a glittering silver colour. Now, it was strong and the silver had completely given way to the most beautiful shade of gold. And it traced directly to Hermione - the girl that Mum had known for years - the girl he knew he'd fall in love with and marry. And wasn't that an overwhelming thought?

Harry became suddenly very lightheaded, swaying on the spot and then stumbling as his sense of balance abandoned him. Between his limited vision and racing mind, the world felt like it was fading away around him. He was vaguely aware of Thea getting Mum's attention, physically pulling her away from her conversation by the hand. It must have worked as a moment later, a pair of hands landed on his shoulder, holding him steady in a gentle grip.

'Hey. Breathe,' Mum instructed softly. 'Deep breaths in and out, come on.'

Doing as she said, he soon regained his balance and the world around him started to come into a much clearer view around him. Mum was regarding him with that look of concerned care that only a Mum could manage.

'What happened?' she asked when he'd calmed down a little. 'You've never reacted like that to an episode.'

Harry looked over her shoulder to the rest of the assembled group. Thea and Hermione seemed very engaged in a discussion of some sorts, while Dad was speaking to the girl's parents. Thankfully none of them were looking his way.

'Harry?'

He returned his focus to Mum and worried at his lip. 'You know how you've always said that you didn't like Dad from the moment you met him on the train?'

Mum looked at him, confused at the non sequitur. 'Yeah?'

'How do I not do that?' he asked shyly, glancing at Hermione once more.

Mum turned her head to follow his gaze before looking back at him with a knowing grin and a nod. 'Oh, I see. That's her? The Raven girl?'

'The Raven's daughter,' he corrected sharply.

'Sorry,' she apologised with a smile, though she didn't sound very sorry at all. 'Okay, so the reason I didn't like Dad was because he was rude, mean, and full of himself.'

Harry looked at her disbelievingly. 'He still is all of those things.'

'A good point, well made,' she allowed with a laugh and Harry grinned, 'but now he knows the difference between when it's funny and when it's hurtful. He also decided, right there on the train, that he was going to marry me and didn't care that I wasn't interested. So don't do any of those things.'

He bit his lip again at that revelation and despairingly asked, 'But what if I _know_ I'm going to marry her?'

'Try not to think about that - you're much too young for all of that girlfriend business, anyway, let alone marriage.' They both scrunched their noses up at the same time, then laughed at each other's reaction. Mum's expression turned more serious quickly though. 'Between you and me, I think more than anything in the world, that girl needs a friend. So be her friend, Harry. Don't lie to her, obviously, but I don't think that she needs to know that you've been having dreams about her just yet. We can deal with that when you're both older, I reckon.'

Harry's face took on a troubled expression as he mulled that thought over. Truth be told, ignoring what he knew sounded much easier said than done. Plus, if he was going to try to be Hermione's friend, keeping a secret from her - especially one that _involved_ her - seemed like a lousy way to go about it. But Mum did have a point. Even he knew that eleven years old was too young to be thinking about girlfriends and marriages and all of that stuff.

Come to think of it, he didn't really have the first clue as to what the difference between friend and boyfriend even was. Mum and Dad were married, so he figured that that was a bit different. Padfoot and Auntie Aspen had been boyfriend and girlfriend for a while, and Harry didn't really think he'd ever want to do as much kissing and flirting as they had with anybody. Then again, last month Padfoot had asked Auntie Aspen to become his fiancée (or his _finance_ as Thea had called it, much to everybody else's hilarity), so maybe those sorts of things just came before something more serious.

Thinking about all of this was making Harry's mind spin again, so he firmly shelved the prospect of figuring all of this out until he was older. Obviously Mum was right, as usual, but even on the off chance that she wasn't, this all sounded a lot like a _future_ Harry problem.

He nodded slowly. 'I can do that - be her friend,' he said, more to himself than to Mum. 'I can do that.'

'Good,' Mum replied with a soft smile. 'So, do you want me to introduce you?'

Harry's eyes went wide as saucers and before he could even begin to hesitate, Mum was on her feet and walking back towards the group. All he could do now was follow.

'Hermione, this is my son, Harry Potter. It's his first year at Hogwarts this year too.' Mum leaned toward Hermione and pretended to whisper, though she was still clearly audible, even over the noise of the platform. 'He's a little nervous about making new friends.'

He almost spoke up to argue with that - he wasn't really nervous about that at all - but then as Hermione stood up a little straighter and looked in his direction, he realised what Mum was doing: she was giving the girl a mission, and more importantly, a reason to stick with him. Clever.

Mum turned to him, then. A slightly mischievous smirk had found its way onto her face, though anybody outside of the family probably wouldn't recognise it for what it was. 'Harry, this is Hermione Granger. We've been exchanging letters for a couple of years.'

'Yeah, I remember you talking about her occasionally,' he replied without thinking, and _honestly_ he needed to stop doing that so much. In an instant, both Mum and Hermione took oddly similar curious looks.

'You do?' Mum asked him.

And Hermione asked Mum, 'You did?' at the same time.

Blessedly, the train whistle sounded loudly across the platform at that moment, saving them all from the slightly awkward moment he'd accidentally created.

'Two minutes! Time to get you two on board!' Dad announced, and he collected Harry into his arms as Hermione's parents did the same with her. Dad whispered into his ear as they embraced, 'Have tons of fun and don't do anything I wouldn't do.'

'That doesn't really mean much,' Harry pointed out as he pulled away, and Dad grinned cheekily.

'I know.'

Next for a farewell hug was Thea, who was starting to look really quite glum about the thought of Harry finally leaving. He grabbed her in a tight hug and rocked her slightly. 'Hey, I'm coming back at Christmas. You'll see me again before you know it!'

She sniffed into his shoulder. 'I'm going to miss you.'

'I'm going to miss you too.'

He kissed her on the top of the head and she reluctantly let him go, immediately turning into Dad's arms as Harry turned to Mum.

'Study hard but remember to have fun. Be careful and write at least once a week. Oh, and ignore whatever your Dad just told you,' she instructed as they embraced.

Harry laughed, but tightened his hold on her suddenly. Excited as he was, the prospect of leaving his family behind for several months suddenly didn't feel quite so appealing. 'I love you,' he whispered.

'I love you too. Now go on, before the train leaves without you.'

Reluctantly, he withdrew from Mum's arms and took a step back. With a shaky smile, he gave them a small wave before turning towards the train. At the door to the carriage closest to them, Mr Granger had just hauled Hermione's trunk onto the train and was bidding her farewell. An idea came to mind just then.

He headed towards that door and climbed up behind the father and daughter. When they pulled apart, he quietly cleared his throat, and smiled bashfully when they both turned their attention towards him. 'Hello, um, me and my friend have got a compartment - well, he's found a compartment for us somewhere on the train - and I wondered if, maybe, you'd like to join us?'

Hermione looked at him shyly for a moment, and when she didn't respond, he started rapidly backpedalling.

'O- of course, if you don't want to, that's fine too! I just-'

Mr Granger nudged Hermione on the shoulder and seemingly kickstarted her into working order.

'Oh! Sorry! Yes! I mean - if it's no problem - yes, that'd be lovely,' she babbled shyly, and Harry beamed.

'Oh, yeah! Alright, cool.'

The train whistle sounded again and Mr Granger hopped off of the train with a rushed goodbye. As the carriage door closed behind him, Harry and Hermione rushed to the window to wave goodbye to each of their families. Within a few moments, the train started to move, and the crowds of people started changing as they passed by. A few moments more, and Harry had completely lost sight of his parents and Thea as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the platform and set off towards its destination in Scotland.

Once they were completely out of sight of King's Cross, Harry turned towards Hermione to find her looking out of the window a little forlornly. He figured he knew what she was feeling, he was going to miss his family something rotten. At least he already knew Neville - she'd set off without knowing anybody. Well, he could do something about that.

'Shall we go and find Neville?' he asked, drawing her attention away from the passing offices and houses. 'He has this habit of getting himself lost, you see, which normally would be alright, but he's got my trunk and my owl at the moment, and I'd rather get them back.'

Hermione laughed slightly at his joke and he grinned. 'Okay,' she agreed. 'Which side did he get on?'

Harry looked left and right down the carriage corridor, then back at his new friend. 'I have no idea,' he admitted.

'Well, we'll start off to the right, then,' she said decisively as she picked up her trunk. 'It looked like it was mostly older kids at the front.'

He gestured her forward. 'Okay then. After you.'

Despite his slight nervousness at going to Hogwarts, and his sadness that he wouldn't see his family now until Christmas, setting off with Hermione to find wherever Neville had ended up on the train felt like a fitting start to this new adventure. His excitement was bubbling up inside him, beating down his apprehension and his nerves whenever they started to rise up.

They were going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - a castle in the Scottish highlands that taught all sorts of _magic_! _Real_ magic! He'd make new friends, and brew potions, and fly brooms, and all sorts! This was going to be brilliant, he told himself.

And yet, despite all of that, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that something important was about to happen. Just beyond the horizon, ever so slightly out of sight, lay something big and important that he'd have to do.

He just had no idea what it was yet.

* * *

**A/N:** I apologise profusely for teasing the title of this chapter and then not updating for a month. It was mean and I'll make sure it doesn't happen again.

As ever, please let me know if there are any errors, mistakes, inaccuracies or inconsistencies in this chapter. Sometimes those slip by, no matter how hard we try to keep them out.

Just prior to this chapter being released, I updated all of the previous chapters with corrections - mostly minor spelling, grammar and phrasing edits. Chapter Two, however, was completely rewritten and grew by about a thousand words. Nothing critical to the plot has been added, but some things _have_ been clarified in the new version that will come up later in the story.

If you're a Harmony shipper and you're not a member of the discord server, you should consider joining! It can be found by searching for 'HMS Harmony discord'. There are almost 3000 members talking about all things Harmony, and we'd love to add you to our numbers.

Thanks ever so much for reading, and for the messages of feedback and support! I do read all of them and the fact that so many people are enjoying this story never fails to brighten my day.

See you soon for _Chapter Sixteen: The Sinking Feeling_.

Peace and love, _amidland_.


End file.
